Of Hemlock and Wolves
by SyntheticProduct
Summary: AU; People forget Hemlock is just as poisonous as it is pretty. People forget that even tamed wolves have teeth, and with teeth comes a nasty bite. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, but Willard Rhys wants nothing more than power and he's willing to do anything for it. Especially marrying off his eldest daughter; she's the best bidding chip he has in the game of thrones. Robb/OC
1. One: Happy News

**Of Hemlock and Wolves  
** _SyntheticProduct_

* * *

Longer Summary: People often forget that Hemlock is not just pretty and dainty, a small flower that is pleasing to the eye; it is poisonous, but when you plant them in abundance, it's deadly. Hemlock Grove got it's name for the deadly accuracy of their bowmen, for their trained warriors, but also known because they were almost neutral in every war. Natives of Hemlock Grove would say that it was as simple as they wanted peace, but others called them out on selfishness; berated them for it. Besides their ferocious talents, there was also a softer side to the town; they were simple lumberers and miners, crafting things from what they gathered and sold them as specialties. The Rhys family controlled Hemlock Grove, they have for more than a millennia since it was built with their own hands. From generation to generation, the land and it's keep (Bolete Keep) was passed down and handled accordingly, but now that Willard Rhys has his hands on it he plans to gain more and more for his family, even going as far as going into battle against House Targaryen. Now was the time of peace, but there is much more power to be gained. Especially through marriages of convenience.  
Robb/Iona; Theon/Sansa; Jon/Gretchen (another OC)

* * *

Chapter One: **Happy News**

* * *

Fog rose from the river, eerily covering the ground in a thick mist; the gentle breeze made it swirl and dance in the morning light. Hemlock Grove was bustling far before Bolete Keep even began to stir, the miners returned to the mines on the southern most hills and the lumberers gathered their axes to retreat back into the woodlands that crept along the safety of their large walls.  
Hemlock Grove began to come alive and swarmed with people even though the northern breeze tried to slow them down. For being a town in the North, it wasn't cold but it wasn't hot either; it was a comforting warmth and the breeze brought cool nips to the air. The people of Hemlock Grove counted themselves lucky because they weren't as far North as Winterfell was, where rumors circulated that it was cold year-round with lots of snow and rain; although it did snow in Hemlock Grove, it didn't blizzard and the sun hardly hid behind the clouds. It was peaceful and everyone was thankful for that; it was often the little things in their lives that made them happy.

Bolete Keep finally stirred from their deep slumber, the servants were already up and preparing food for the Rhys family. The morning light carried the servant's feet faster, the pitter-patting against the wooden floors as they began to wake the noble family.  
A light tapping at Iona's door woke her from her dreamless slumber, she rolled to her side and groaned. She could distinctly hear Eleonora, her trusty handmaiden, open the conjoined door that separated their rooms; the light rustling of her dress, pressing it out before opening the door. Eleonora greeted the other servant kindly, Iona could almost hear the smile in the tone of her voice, "Good morn Leanna, have you brought the rose-water for our Lady?" Their was a quiet _yes_ and Iona stirred from her warm bed, watching the mousy, brunette set the steaming bowl on her dressing table. When the servant turned, she gasped and curtsied low, "Good morn my Lady! I apologize for not greeting you sooner."

Iona hid her smile, "do not apologize, if it looked like I was asleep I wouldn't expect you to greet a sleeping body; it would be a bit queer, wouldn't it Eleonora?" Eleonora smiled towards Leanna, "it is as my Lady says Leanna, no harm was done. Please continue your duties now, I'm sure Lady Bethally will be patiently waiting for her rose-water as well." Iona could picture her younger sister doing anything but waiting patiently. She was probably pacing around the room, screaming at her handmaiden; she was quite the drama queen. Leanna looked panicked and left the room, but not before curtsying and bidding goodbye to both Iona and Eleonora. When the door closed behind her, Eleonora was the first to start laughing which led to a quiet chuckle from Iona, "patiently waiting - surely you are sugar coating that one, Eleonora?" They both looked at each other and continued to laugh. After a quiet moment, a settling from the laughter, Eleonora helped her Lady from her bed and brought her over to her dressing table, setting Iona's robe around her shoulders.

Eleonora cleaned Iona's face with a damp cloth, wiping down her face and patting it dry afterwards, "your skin is looking a lot better today my Lady, less pallor than the days previous." Iona hummed in appreciation, "it's because you started ordering rose-water every morning for me, I thank you for that."

"Nonsense my Lady, it is a honor to help."

Iona had to wonder how many years it had been since Eleonora had begun to serve her and her family; she could scarcely remember how long it had been. She remembered when she was younger, around one and zero she had her first handmaiden named Maddie. She was a bit older than her mother at the time, her hands were often shaky and she stuttered quite a bit but she was more of a mother to her than her actual mother was. She remembered the day when Maddie became ill and had died only a few days later; Maester Niclas told her that it was a cold and that her elderly body couldn't handle that sickness, it gave up on her. She grieved for nearly a year, probably more as her next handmaiden made her way into her life. Cemrin was her name and she was cruel to the little girl. She was with Iona for for a few months before her mother dismissed her for being _distasteful_ ; in all actuality, Cemrin had started an illicit affair with her father and her mother became insanely jealous.  
Eleonora was the last handmaiden and her friend.

"What dress do you wish to wear today my Lady?" Iona snapped her eyes up to Eleonora, who was holding two dresses. One was a lovely cream color with gold embroidery around the sleeves and edges; there were dainty flowers that flowed down the skirt and wound around the waist. The other was a dark green with the same gold embroidery, but there were no flowers nor were there any details on the skirt. Instead, it the intricate circles on the sleeves in brilliant gold thread; it was her house colors.

"The cream dress would be lovely today, the weather outside calls for something breezy and light." The sun was mid-way over the walls, so it was still early morn, "good decision my Lady, I will fetch your corset and undergarments." Eleonora did as she said and Iona stripped down bare until she slipped on her undergarments while Eleonora helped her with the corset. She would never complain out loud, but she hated the blasted things. She always felt faint after a few hours and sometimes when she sat it tug into her thighs. Eleonora chuckled as Iona breathed out deeply through her nose as they finished tying it off, "are you okay my Lady?"

"Of course Eleonora, fetch me the dress will you? I must hurry getting ready or Mother will release the hounds on me, breaking fast is her favorite part of the day after all." Eleonora complied with little talking before helping Iona into the dress, slipping it up her legs and pulling the lace sleeves onto her arms. Her expert fingers tied up the dress with little effort, "you look beautiful my Lady, a vision." Iona smiled lightly as she sat down once again before her dressing table waiting for Eleonora to dress-up her hair.

Eleonora poured a sweet smelling oil into her hands and quickly brushed through Iona's hair with it before braiding it. Although Iona's dark brown hair was long and thick, truly a mess in the morns, she plaited it. Eleonora knew her Lady's hair better than her own; she worked fast to pull the plaits into a milk braid, pulling a few loose strands to frame her prominent jaw.

"Finished, my Lady."

Iona peered into the seeing glass and smiled, nodding her head with approval, "thank you Eleonora you've outdone yourself." Eleonora's face flushed lightly and she thanked Iona for paying the compliment, "nonsense Eleonora, you are my friend and you deserve all the compliments in the world."

"Oh hush my Lady, let us go to the dinning hall to break fast with your family before as you said, your mother releases the hounds." With a few giggles, they left the room and hurried down to the dinning hall. As soon as they entered the hall, Iona grimaced at the screeching of her young sister, Bethally, "I don't understand why Iona gets her rose-water first, nothing could help with her horrid complexion; at least I have a chance!" Bethally was all of fourteen with honey-colored locks and bright blue eyes, the very splitting image of their mother and with the same personality.

"Iona, finally you grace us with your presence," her mother's voice was cold as she breast fed her son, Travan, who was only a year old. He was born with the same thick mass of dark hair as Iona did, but had the blue eyes of their mother. Perhaps this is why Iona was detested by her mother, because she didn't remind her of herself.

She looked much more like her father with dark brown hair that curled around in loose rings and wide, but dark green eyes. She curtsied at the threshold of the dinning hall, "good morn mother, father, Bethally," she smiled over at her small brother, "and Travan." The boy giggled, the laughter rang out like tiny bells.

"Sit down Iona, break fast with us and when you're finished you can help me respond to ravens in my study." Her father's face was stony with a small smile, glancing over at Bethally with narrowed eyes. Her younger sister huffed and started to stuff her mouth with buttered bread and eggs. Iona dismissed Eleonora quietly so she could break fast as well and start her chores afterwards. She sat down on her father's right side and began eating the fresh food that was cooked. She payed her compliments to the chef, who was glowing beside her and dismissed him with a casual smile. The servants brought her a hot cup of lemon tea which she gladly drank slowly as her father finished off his roasted pheasant breast.  
Since she was the first born of her father, she learned the ins and outs of being the head of the Rhys family. That was before her brother was born, now she was learning the ins and outs of helping out a Lord with daily tasks; she was learning to become a good wife. Iona found the tasks boring, mostly reading through letters and handing them over to her father with a summary of what the important topics of the letter was. She would write for her father because his hand had become shaky and nothing but scratch within his old years, but sometimes they would speak about the going ons of Westeros.

"Come along Iona, we have much to do today and little time to do it," he stood from his chair and paused as he glanced down at his wife, "Julianna, will you come visit when it's about midday?"

"Of course my good-Lord husband, I will hand Travan over to the Septa and visit."

"Good, come Iona." Iona followed her father, hands folded against her thighs as they walked. Her father walked with a cane and there were rumors that he was falling ill, but Iona had yet to see any signs of illness. He walked with a hard limp that he received in the war, part of his foot had been completely taken off by a longsword as he road his horse. Now, he needed the aid of his cane to walk.  
His face was scarred with long, flesh colored lines that ran along his face and he was losing sight in his right eye because of another war induced injury.  
He was balding with wiry, dark brown hair and a crooked nose, "is there any particular reason why you're wearing _that_ dress today?" His voice was hoarse and she watched as he licked his dry lips. Iona glanced down at the cream colored dress and looked back at him confused, "should I not have worn this dress father? If it is unpleasing, I apologize."

"Have you heard anything?"

More confusion on Iona's part, she didn't quite understand what he was asking, "about what father?"

"Nothing, never mind." His eyes departed from hers and he looked straight forward. His cane made a fine-tapping noise against the wooden floors and his boots made an even heavier thump. They reached his study in little time and when he pushed the oaken doors open, Iona almost groaned with trepidation; his desk was piled high with letters, both crumpled and finely straight, or still folded. The ravens crooned at the open window, waiting for their master to give them his replies. Iona took her place beside the plush chair which was her father's, picking up the first letter that had the seal of House Forrester. She read it quietly and summarized it for her father before he pushed the blank letter over to her. She wrote the letter, word to word from her father's mouth.

* * *

This lasted for more than a few hours and Iona had started to feel her hand start to cramp. She didn't complain, but instead she'd stretch her writing hand in between letters. They had gotten through more than a fair share of the pile, most of the letters asking for a trade agreement of their wood or ore; some asked for an arrangement of protection or even to bring their families together, in the form of marriage of their eldest children. Those were the worse letters to write because they would know her fine writing was not of her father's and she feared it would bring them embarrassment, but her father hardly cared.

"I will not reply to another Lannister letter, by the Old Gods they are persistent bastards with their heads stuck up too far into their asses." Her father's anger was evident and Iona knew why. When Iona had been younger, her father presented an arranged marriage between her and a young Lannister boy, Iona wasn't sure which one. They declined. Her father held many grudges, especially in his old age.

The door opened without even a knock and Iona knew it was her mother. She glanced up to see her mother standing regally on the other side of the large desk. She wore her hair differently from this morn and Iona could see that her mother wasn't expecting to see her here still, "should our darling daughter leave us?" Iona began to gather the skirting of her dress in her hands, waiting to be released from her duties; however, her father waved her to sit down and in turn, angering her mother more.

"What is going on Willard?" Her mother's voice was tight, "what is so unimportant you'd call me here, but keep her in the room with us." Her father coughed into his hand before sipping the wine from his goblet.

"I've called upon you to discuss something of importance, which involves Iona as well. Now sit down Julianna, unless you want no part in these important talks." Her father knew how to push her mother's buttons; it was quite a scene to see, her mother huffing before sitting down in an un-elegant way. She crossed her legs and stared forth, "what is it Willard?"

"As you know," her father coughed once again, "Iona started to bleed sometime ago, becoming a woman and since then we have been receiving many marriage proposals, asking for her hand and extending a so called _olive branch,_ but we know it is for our mines. For our wood. For our men that help protect our town and keep."

Iona flushed when she remembered the first time she bled, at the ripe age of one and one. Maddie, the deceased handmaiden and second-mother, reassured her that she wasn't dying and that she had become a woman. After the bloody sheets had been washed, Maddie sat her down and talked about the things she would have to do when she gained a husband.  
She remembered how Maddie announced it to her parents, like it was something she should be proud of. It was such a scary time for her and on top of it, she was embarrassed.

"What does this have to do with me?" Her mother said quickly while her father narrowed his eyes, "watch your tone with me Julianna."

"Father, she does have a point, what exactly is going on?" Iona asked quietly, earning yet another glare from her mother. Her father smiled softly at Iona, "such manners, we have raised you well my child." For the first time in a long time, he began to pet her hair. She stared up at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, "close your mouth you look like a damn fish!" Her mother scolded and Iona did as she was told.

"Now, Julianna you must watch what you say because this may be the last time you talk to your eldest daughter," Iona looked at him questioningly, "someone has offered quite a deal for your hand in marriage to their eldest son." Iona felt her heart leap up into her throat and she felt distinctly sick, "w-who father?"  
Her father leaned back in his chair and collected a pile of letters from the top drawer, "read them."

The seal had been worn so she couldn't tell the sigil that marked them, she knew it was an animal of sorts and feared it to be from House Baratheon. She opened the first letter and read it over.

 _Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove,_

 _It has been some time since we've talked last, I believe the last was just after the war had ended and I was asking about your health since your wounds were deemed dire by the maester on the battle fields. Now, you have not just one child but three which I hear congratulations are in order for your new son, Travan. I hear he is all of a few months old now_ \- Iona raised her eyebrows at that, these letters had been going on for some time then; however, she continued reading - _and your good Lady wife, Julianna is in good health. My wife sends her regards for her, as well as her congratulations._

 _This letter however is more than just congratulations for your new son. I have a proposition to make; a marriage proposal for your eldest child, Iona. My eldest son is now seventeen and if memory serves, your daughter is only a year his junior and I believe that this marriage would be beneficial for my family as well as yours. I have much to offer, but I will patiently wait for your reply before boring you with the proposal._

 _With the highest regards,_

 _Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell_

Iona breathed in so deeply that she started to go into a coughing fit, which amused her mother.

"Read my reply, my child." Her father's voice was demanding and she knew there wasn't much of a choice on her part. Her mind swam with questions, but she kept her mouth quite tight-lipped before she started questioning her father's ear off. She leafed through the letters and pulled out what looked to be the reply letter.

 _Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell,_

 _My wife and I thank you for your words of congratulations, we are elated to finally have a head of house_ \- she felt saddened by her father's words, but she knew she would never be enough since she was of the wrong gender; however, she couldn't help but smile faintly at her father's chicken-scratch of handwriting. This must've been before his eyesight had started to fail him and she had to write his letters for him - _and I must say that I have entertained the thought of a marriage between my house and yours. The Starks are known to be very loyal and honest, something that speaks lengths of your family since not many families can call themselves that. Now that I have entertained the idea, I would like to hear the proposal you are willing to offer for my daughter's hand. She has a large dowry and with the strength of the Rhys family behind her; what can your house offer that we don't already have?_

 _With the best regards,_

 _Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove_

Iona's hands were shaking even though she tried her best to tame them. Her vision blurred from tears, but pushed it down when she cleared her throat. She read through the rest of the letters with fervor, her eyes scanning over each line of handwriting before she noticed the last letter was written in her own hand.

 _Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell,_

 _It pleases me that we've come to an agreement. I shall tell my family of this proposal within a weeks time and I shall send a raven soon after to let you know of all that has happened. When my raven flies back with your response is when I shall relieve the news._

 _The hand of Iona Rhys with the voice of,_

 _Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove_

She hadn't even realized what she was responding to, only remembering that her father distinctly told her that she needed not to read the reply out loud but instead he'd read it in silence; quite unusual, but she knew better than to question her father. She remembered what the next letter that Lord Stark sent because she was quite confused by it all.

 _Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove,_

 _I patiently wait for that raven then, my friend._

 _Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell_

She felt sick, her stomach clenching in odd places and her laid the papers down on the desk, breathing deeply to control the sick feeling washing over her.

"What do you think, my child?" Her father's voice was much different now. She stared down at her entwined fingers for a time before leveling her eyes with his; it was like looking into her own eyes, the deep green of his eyes briefly reflected her face as she watched a shaky, fake smile come to her lips, "it is an honor to represent our family in this union and his offer of oxen and gold was quite pleasing to hear."

"As well as the company of new guards, which will need to be retrained, he will be sending us, and the new farm animals."

This is what she was worth. She was worth four-hundred gold dragons, enough for new equipment for not only the miners but the lumberers as well and then some; sixteen new field oxen, fifty guards as well as six supplies of farm animals - enough to hold over six new farms, which were newly licensed this year. It would be perfect for Hemlock Grove, but for Iona it felt cheap.  
She felt like a whore, bought and sold for a price. She was a high-priced whore.

Her dowry consisted of five-hundred gold dragons, a trade arrangement for their lumber and ore, a small guard of twenty-two, four trained-riding mares, and the strength of Hemlock Grove's trained warriors.

Yes. A high-priced whore with more than a little to her name.

"Are you sure you want Iona to wed the eldest Stark? Bethally is much fairer than Iona will ever be; she is much too average for the next Lord of Winterfell." Her mother's voice was risen an octave, it was shrill and horrid to listen to. Iona felt her neck nearly snap at the speed of which she turned her head to look at her mother. For once in her life, she felt saved by her mother, but insulted. Was she too average for such a Lord? She looked down at her hands; perhaps her mother was right.

"Enough Julianna," her father's voice was booming in the quiet keep, "Bethally is far too young and weak; her thin frame would not be good for child bearing. Iona is strong with wide hips and she has much a pleasing face. Bethally might be as fair as you, but Iona is as far as my mother." Iona felt taken back by the ushered compliment. Iona's grandmother, Flora Rhys, was known as a beauty throughout the North and she merely flushed red at the statement.

"You forget that I am every part of this decision as you my good Lord husband," her mother was seething, "I pushed her from my womb, birthed her without you even being present and she is every part of me as she is you." Her father's frail hands slammed against the table and her mother leaned far back in her seat, looking quite stunned. Her father pushed himself from his seat and Iona gasped, "father you must use your cane!"

"Silence girl," he commanded, "Julianna, you might be my good Lady wife, but my word is final. You have grown wild in your aging years, don't think just because you finally birthed me a son that you command over me in any way other than the bed."

Her mother stood from her seat, "you repugnant pig! This is a partnership, you do not command me anymore than my father did when I accepted this marriage!"

"This. Is. Not. A. Partnership," her father's eyes grew wild, "I own you, you are mine and as I am yours but you do _not_ own me like I do you. Do not think I don't remember the nights you stayed in our room crying to leave this place, you never accepted this marriage - it was political so your family could sneak into ours! Now sit!" His voice cracked at the end of his yelling, but it got her mother to sit back down.

"Iona said it would honor her to marry into such a family, I take that as an agreement so I will send a raven to Lord Stark that she will be on her way within a few days of his response. Leave us Julianna."

Iona didn't dare to look at her mother as she stormed from the room, nearly slamming the large door behind her. She could hear her mother screeching from down the hall, yelling at a servant and said that she'd whip her for her behavior.

"Grab some paper and begin writing Lord Stark at once," Iona slipped a piece of parchment in front of her and shakily dipped the quill into an inkwell, "write what I say and nothing more."

"Like always father."

 _Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell,_

 _The news has fallen upon this house happily and my eldest said she'd be glad to honor us in this union; I only hope that your son feels the same way and will honor her unwaveringly. When I receive your response, we shall head out a few days from then since it will take us a few weeks to reach Winterfell by horse and carriage. This pleases me and my family greatly that you honor us._

 _The hand of Iona Rhys with the voice of,_

 _Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove_

She folded the letter and sealed if with molten wax before tying it to the Stark's raven - a jet black bird with black eyes, but a ribbon of the house colors tied around its leg. When it flew away, Iona felt her heart shattering in her chest; it was like the raven itself was carrying away her freedom rather than a note.

"You are free to leave now Iona, go celebrate however you wish."

"But father, there are more letters to be - "

"Nonsense, I will send for my squire to come and write the rest. You go and celebrate this union, all of Hemlock Grove with surely know of this by the days end." She bid goodbye to her father before opening and then closing the door behind her. Her heart was still in her throat as she walked as calmly as she could to her quarters. Eleonora was standing before her wardrobe, hanging up freshly pressed dresses when Iona entered.

"My Lady, you have arrived back sooner than expected! Shall I fetch you some water?"

Iona didn't respond simply because she didn't have time to. She rushed over to her cleaned chamber pots and retched into it, vomit passing her lips and splashing into the silver pot. Eleonora clambered to be beside Iona, rubbing her back while bombarding her with so many questions that it made Iona's head pound.

"Shall I fetch the maester, my Lady?"

"No," Iona managed out past the heaving, "no, please don't." She emptied her stomach, she was sure of it because now all she could do was retch into the pot while nothing else came forth. Eleonora led Iona a chair before throwing a fur blanket over her shoulders, "my Lady what ever has happened?" When Iona didn't answer, she filled a goblet with water and presented it to Iona. She drank it greedily, spilling some past her mouth and down her face, "my Lady! Please, sip it before you start retching again." Eleonora's was laced with concern and Iona could only laugh, which drew more concern from Eleonora, "my Lady?"

"I have the happiest news to share with you my friend," Iona stared blankly ahead with a tense smile that made her cheeks shake, "I am to be married."

 **AN: After writing this chapter, I looked up Hemlock to make sure it was the correct plant I was thinking of only to discover there is a show called _Hemlock Grove,_ a Netflix original if I remember correctly. My Hemlock Grove that I've created has nothing to do with the show, and I've fleshed out the place so much that it would hurt me to change it, so I hope keeping the name is okay! I have another GoT fanfic called The Crow & The Little Bird, which is a Jon/OC with a slight dash of Robb/OC so if you enjoyed this, or if you didn't, you might find my other fanfic as enjoyable!  
** **I loved writing in the GoT world so much that I wanted to create a second story, I hope that this story holds up to people's standards because I've been thinking about writing it for a while now! Iona Rhys has been a pet project of mine for a few weeks now, at first she started out as a servant that would end up with Robb, but I thought it was too along the lines of my other work. I know there are more than a few fanfics of Robb getting married before the War of the Five Kings, but I thought _why the Hell not_? Hope you've enjoyed! If you have, please leave a review or a favorite, even a follow! It means the world to me that people actually read these stories! Thank you all x**


	2. Two: Prepare

**Of Hemlock and Wolves  
** _SyntheticProduct_

* * *

Longer Summary: People often forget that Hemlock is not just pretty and dainty, a small flower that is pleasing to the eye; it is poisonous, but when you plant them in abundance, it's deadly. Hemlock Grove got it's name for the deadly accuracy of their bowmen, for their trained warriors, but also known because they were almost neutral in every war. Natives of Hemlock Grove would say that it was as simple as they wanted peace, but others called them out on selfishness; berated them for it. Besides their ferocious talents, there was also a softer side to the town; they were simple lumberers and miners, crafting things from what they gathered and sold them as specialties. The Rhys family controlled Hemlock Grove, they have for more than a millennia since it was built with their own hands. From generation to generation, the land and it's keep (Bolete Keep) was passed down and handled accordingly, but now that Willard Rhys has his hands on it he plans to gain more and more for his family, even going as far as going into battle against House Targaryen. Now was the time of peace, but there is much more power to be gained. Especially through marriages of convenience.  
Robb/Iona; Theon/Sansa; Jon/Gretchen (another OC)

* * *

Chapter Two: **Prepare**

* * *

The next few days had blurred together for Iona, it almost didn't feel real. There were servants going in and out of her chambers, collecting dresses and folding them into a traveling trunk, or lining the trunk with shoes and jewelry. When they asked Iona for any preference on what she took, she tried her best to look pleased and answer the question as directly as possible, but the sick feeling still twisted at her stomach and she often had to excuse herself so she could be sick in private. She felt as if a thousand eyes were watching her and it shouldn't have been a horrid feeling, most people had happily smiles and offered their congratulations to her; however, that's when she felt even more sickened.  
Eleonora refused to leave her lady's side, even for a moment. When Iona had told her about the marriage, Eleonora felt pride swell in her chest and she remembered breaking into a wide grin. Then suddenly, when she looked into Iona's blank stare she concern grew and grew until that's all that filled her.

 _"I have the happiest of news to share with you, my friend," Iona stared blankly ahead with a tense smile that made her cheeks shake, "I am to be married."  
_ _Eleonora stood still, her hands suddenly not knowing what to do as she held the empty goblet that Iona had just drank. Then with sudden elation, Eleonora broke into a wide grin and the empty goblet dropped to the ground as she sunk to her knees in front of her lady._

 _"My Lady, this is wonderful news!" Eleonora clasped her hands around Iona's, giving them a comforting squeeze, "who is the lucky Lord that shall wed you? I'm sure you will look even more gorgeous on your wedding day!" The earlier sickness now made sense to Eleonora, Iona had been shocked at the news for sure!  
_

 _Iona sucked in a shaky breath as she did her best to smile, "the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Robb Stark." Eleonora squealed with excitement and suddenly Iona felt so very alone, it crept into her heart with a sudden blackness and guilt soon followed after it. She had wondered why she couldn't be as happy as Eleonora was, perhaps she'd be a better fit for the Lord's goodwife; the empty thought left as soon as it entered her mind, like it had been carried away by the northern breeze itself._

 _"What gracious news my Lady! I have heard of the Stark's honor and loyalty to their family as well as to their friends," Eleonora stared up at Iona for the first time, giving Iona a toothy smile, "and I've heard about the handsomeness of all the Stark children! Second only to those of the Lannisters I hear!" When Eleonora looked into Iona's eyes, her smile faltered. Iona stared blankly down at her with a ghost of a smile, one that made her look more sad than her eyes did. Eleonora squeezed her lady's hand and whispered a question, "do you want to get married, my Lady?"_

 _Iona was quiet for a moment and when she smiled Eleonora felt concern spread throughout her body, "of course I am Eleonora, it is an honor to marry into such an honorable family. I cannot wait for the wedding." The words rang so hollow that Eleonora felt compelled to embrace her lady, pulling her in tight and comforting her. Eleonora didn't hear her crying or sobbing, but Iona felt her face grow wet as silent tears poured down her face._

"My Lady, do you wish to bring your books with you?" One of the servants asked as they stood over a vastly empty trunk. The servant looked confused for a moment, but smiled nonetheless.  
Iona offered a small smile, one that was beginning to be quite common in the past few days, "only my favorites. I am sure that Winterfell has its own stories to read." The servant curtsied and began to speak to Eleonora in a hushed voice. Iona ignored them and continued to work on her embroidery project she had started on months previous.  
Several of the servants made comments to Eleonora that their lady was looking sickly, her skin turned into a ghastly shade of white and dark circles hung below her eyes. Eleonora promised herself that tonight she'd visit Maester Niclas to get a sleeping poultice for her lady.

Eleonora would never bring it up to her lady, confront her with the truth when all her lady was trying to do was escape it, but she could hear Iona moving around in the early morning hours and sometimes she could hear light sniffling.

Iona stifled back a yawn, "Eleonora will you fetch me something to snack on? Perhaps some berries, something light to fill my stomach until dinner." Iona wasn't actually that hungry, but she could feel her handmaiden's eyes on her and it began to irritate her. The irritation grew into annoyance and she tried to keep it in check, but she found herself snapping at Eleonora for no reason at all.

"Yes my Lady, I will fetch that and some tea." Eleonora curtsied and began to make her way to the kitchen. When she left, Iona felt even smaller that she was in the large room filled with servants cleaning and packing. She eyed several of them until it unnerved them and they left the room, but most of them stayed and simply ignored their lady's eyes. Iona clenched her jaw and began to grind her teeth, she wanted nothing more than to be rid of them all. Iona set down her embroidery project and stood from her chair, watching as several servants stilled at her movement since she had not moved since early in the morn. She watched as their eyes glanced at each other and then back to her; one servant was brave enough to speak, "is there something you wish for, my Lady?"  
Iona smiled forcefully, which to everyone else in the room looked to be genuine and they relaxed, "could you fetch Ser Byron and tell him I wish to go for a walk about the town? Perhaps buy a few things as gifts for the Starks? I think it would be a lovely thing to do."

"Yes my Lady, of course my Lady." The lithe servant left very quickly, her eyes crinkled with happiness and Iona felt sick once again. Happiness, could she be happy being forced into a marriage? If her parents marriage was anything to go by, then no; she would never be happy. Iona readied herself as she clasped a tight traveling cloak around her shoulders and another servant helped to lace up her walking boots. By the time she was finished, Eleonora had made her way back and looked confused, "my Lady, are you going somewhere?"

"Into town with Ser Byron if he isn't too busy with assisting the Captain with the squire's training," Iona paused, "do you wish to join us?"

"Certainly my Lady, please eat something while I get changed." Eleonora escaped back into her room, closing the door behind her. Iona sat down at her writing desk, the wood etched with words and drawings from when she was younger, and began to nibble at the fresh berries and sip at the warm tea. Her stomach gurgled quietly and she felt it twist, so she stopped eating and only sipped her tea. Only a few minutes passed when Ser Byron showed up at her open door. He had one of those smiles that made his eyes crinkle with happiness and dimples placed deeply on each side of his lips, it made her want to smile. He was an older man, about four years older than herself, with black hair and brown eyes; his nose was crooked from a bad setting and his ears appeared two sizes too big for his head. Iona would've called him adorable if he wasn't more than twice her size with years of built muscle.

"My Lady, you requested me?" Like a gentleman, he stood just outside her door with his hands folded behind his back.

"Yes Ser Byron, I was hoping you'd escort me and my handmaiden to town to go for a quick shop." Iona stood with every ounce of elegance she had, trying to still her shaking knees. He smiled kindly, showing a missing tooth from his left side, "it would be an honor my Lady, when should we leave my Lady?"

"Anytime you deem allowable, Eleonora is getting dressed and ready for a walk through town." Just as Iona finished her sentence, Eleonora appeared from behind her door, sporting a twisted up braid and a dark, grey traveling cloak. She smiled graciously at Iona and sent a small smile towards Ser Byron. For years Eleonora spoke about Ser Byron with such admiration in her voice that Iona knew her handmaiden liked him, she made it quite obvious too. Ser Byron smiled back, "then shall we leave now, my Lady?"

"It would please me greatly," when Iona stepped forth, Ser Byron held out his arm for her which she easily slid her own into, "are you ready Eleonora?" A quiet _yes, my Lady_ was the answer and they were off to walk around town.

* * *

Traveling down from Bolete Keep was a trek in of itself, the winding hill was steep and sometimes treacherous to climb down from. Ser Byron held on a tad tighter as they walked, even offering his other arm to Eleonora to assure her safety, which made the tawny girl flush. When they reached the bottom of the hill, Ser Byron ordered for the drawbridge to be left down until Iona and their party returned. When the drawbridge lowered, dirt clouded into the air like a puff of smoke before they crossed it.

It felt like years since Iona had come down to the town, but she knew that she had visited them only a few weeks prior. She tried her best to come down and talk with the townfolk, to watch them craft or eat, even play. The dirt road leading away from the Keep was a smooth one, so Ser Byron lowered the arm that was securing Eleonora as well as Iona. He slowed down a couple paces so he was directly behind them, far enough away where he couldn't clearly hear them talking.

"I see you still have a crush on Ser Byron," Iona teased slightly, her tone made it seem more serious than a joke, "you should just tell him." Iona winced at the comment because it seemed like a command. Eleonora didn't seem to concerned by her lady's talk, but smiled softly at the words, "I cannot my Lady, he is of higher birth than me. It would be disgraceful."

"Love is love, you can't control it." Maddie had told her that one time, after a late night bedtime story about a King and a peasant falling in love.

Eleonora was about to reply, but screaming countered it. Iona glanced up to see she was beginning to edge her way into the town itself and an elderly woman was screaming her name, "Lady Iona! Lady Iona, congratulations on your engagement my Lady! What wonderful news!" The sickness had returned, but Iona gave the woman a wavering smile, "thank you my goodlady, I will do my best to honor us all."

The woman smiled and nodded her head in understanding before departing back into, what Iona believed, was her house. Iona remembered the woman's face, vaguely; she brought up fresh vegetables from the farms every few weeks, she never thanked her for that and this might the last time she saw the woman's face. So instead of walking ahead into town, she walked over to the house and knocked gently on the door.

"My Lady?" Eleonora called out worriedly, but Iona just waved her hand dismissively. The woman opened the door, wiping her hands on her dirty apron and froze when she saw Iona standing there, "my Lady Iona!" She curtsied so deeply that Iona was afraid she had hurt her knees. Iona brought a hand to the woman's shoulder, smiling as kindly as she could, "please do not curtsy for me, I have come to thank you."

The woman had a confused smile, "for what my Lady Iona?"

"For bringing the vegetables up to the Keep. I noticed you have been toting the cart up yourself lately, has your oxen died?" The woman frowned slightly and escape Iona's gaze by looking down; she began fiddling with her apron, "I'm sorry you had to see such a shameful display my Lady, our oxen died a few months ago and we have been trying to trade for a new one."

"What is your name?" This made the woman look up, "Keira Olsha, my Lady?"

"I will see that one of the oxen that my family is getting from my marriage is sent to you, one of the young and strong ones; for thanks for everything you do." The woman's eyes filled with tears and she curtsied once again, "my Lady that is too much!"

"You work hard, my family must see that we treat those who work hard with honor; think of it as a reward for doing so." Iona felt an ugly feeling well up inside of her with when Keira stared up at her with happy eyes and a wide, grateful smile, "my Lady honors my family, thank you."

Iona coughed slightly into her hand and waved over Ser Byron, "Ser Byron please remind me when we get back to the Keep to talk to my father about this gift, I'm sure he will agree to it." Ser Byron nodded his head and bowed slightly as a way of recognition of the order. Keira smiled once again, "thank you my Lady, you are the brightest thing that we have to offer in Hemlock Grove." The ugly feeling doubled and her throat tightened, her lips faltered into a thin line before she brushed it off with another smile, "thank you my goodlady Olsha, I'm sure you'll hear word from my father when your oxen arrives. Have a good noon."

"You as well my Lady." Keira curtsied yet again and shut the door as Iona began to walk away. Eleonora was at her side immediately, "that was a kind gesture my Lady, she was very happy."

Iona thought for a moment, the word _happy_ rang through her mind like a bell. The ugly feeling welled up once again and her stomach twisted, but she swallowed the feeling down, "yes, I am glad to see her smile."

It was quiet between them until they reached the market place. People passed by and offered their congratulations, smiling and bowing. Iona had tried to brush them off with a smile and a quiet 'thank you'. As time passed, the ugly feeling became too much and she excused herself to the outer rims of the town. She nearly threw herself to the ground, her breathing ragged and she began to vomit once again. Eleonora crouched down next to her, rubbing soothing circles onto her back as Iona released the ugly feeling onto the ground. She heaved and gagged, what little food she ate today now appeared as a pile on the grassen hill.

"Should we return to the Keep my Lady?" Eleonora suggested as Iona stood up, brushing the dirt from her skirts. Ser Byron hung back, guarding the two ladies so they could have their privacy.

"No, I came here for gifts and gifts I shall leave with."

"My Lady, I am concerned for your health. You have become so pale and you are sick so often - "

"Do not speak to me of these things," Iona snapped as the annoyance overthrew whatever emotion was there before, "you are my handmaiden and nothing else, I command you and you do not command me."

Eleonora was silent and Iona felt guilt bubble inside of her, but said nothing else as she walked back to Ser Byron, "let us go to the craft shop, I have an order to put in." Eleonora strayed behind her Lady as sadness built up inside of her; Iona was more than her mistress, she was her friend, but something changed inside of Iona and Eleonora knew that it was eating her up.

The farther into town they went, more and more people crowded around Iona and the larger the group, the smaller she felt. She smiled as much as possible, offering her thanks and moved on, but something seemed to be dragging her down. When they finally arrived at the crafts shop, the apprentice greeted them with a half toothed smile.

"Welcome to Master Hayman's shop, my Lady - do wish for me to fetch him?" The shaggy brown mop atop of his head made Iona amused, it had hung in strands in front of the boy's face and made him look younger than he probably was, "yes please."

He scampered off into the back of the shop, the smell of sawdust and wood filled her senses; it eased her to no end. She glanced around the shop at the projects the master craftsman had finished. There was a large, ornate statue of her grandfather standing in the corner of the shop, high on a pedestal and Iona mentally noted that someone had begun to paint it.

A cough stirred her out of her own mind and she turned to see Master Hayman standing before her. He was older than her father, wrinkles had taken ahold of his face and he was completely bald, "my Lady Iona, it is a pleasure to see you in my shop once again. I assume you aren't here for pleasantries however...?"

"You have assumed correctly Master Hayman," Iona replied returning a ghost of a smile, "I have come to place an order that must be finished before I depart."

"A wedding gift then? Showing the best that Hemlock Grove has to offer." His bravado and confidence made Iona stifle a chuckle.

"Of course Master Hayman, and only your woodworking skills would do."

"What is your order then my Lady Iona?" He had stepped behind the counter by then, fetching a piece of parchment as well as a quill and inkwell. Iona stepped forth, leaving behind her entourage, "if memory serves you made excellent toys, I still favor that wooden pony you made me for my ninth namesake day."

"Ah yes, the one with the moveable joints and real horse hair; that one was quite a feat you know, only one in existence." He glanced up at Iona with a smile of his own, like they were sharing a joke.

"I would like two wolves to be made, each colored differently; perhaps one grey and the other brown," Master Hayman wrote down the order as Iona spoke, "as well as wooden doll with orange hair, rouge lips." She was trying to remember how many children the Starks actually had. She remembered that they had two young sons, and two girls, but one of the girls was rumored to be more of a boy than the other. Arya if she wasn't mistaken, the one that looked like her aunt with brown hair and brown eyes to match; that is what the rumors said at least. If she was wrong, she could simply swap the gifts.

"Is that all my Lady?"

"Yes," she had other thoughts for the youngest girl and her... betrothed, "how long will it take to make?"

"About a week, if my assistant can be of any help." He glanced back towards the workshop area where the young boy was peeking around the corner, offering a shy smile, "that would be fantastic, I should be leaving by then."

"Perfect, I shall have them sent up when they are finished my Lady..." he trailed off as he handed the parchment to the boy, "you are welcome back to see the progress any time my Lady, if you wish."

"Perhaps I will." She offered another smile, leaving one gold dragon and several coppers behind before departing for the smithy. Eleonora and Ser Byron followed behind. She entered the smithy, which was nearly a block away from the craft shop, and was greeted by Smithy Stern himself. A large, towering man was sweating from the heat of the forge but he offered a smile when seeing her, "Lady Iona, what a surprise! How is your father?"

"He is in good health Smithy Stern, he sends his greetings to you and your family," two small daughters, a son, and a pregnant wife, "I am here to place an order." He wiped his hands with a blacken cloth, the ash from the forge smeared down the cloth and his leather apron, "and who would that be for?"

"My betrothed and a few of his family members." The word _betrothed_ burnt her tongue as she said it and she swallowed the lump appearing in her throat. Smithy Stern laughed loudly, booming in the stoned forge-house. He slammed his fists down on the table separating them, "to show them the strength of our iron!"

"Of course Smithy Stern, your works rival even the best smithies in King's Landing for a far fairer price." The compliment made Smithy Stern bubble with joyous laughter once again, "you pay me many great respects my Lady, you will do fine in Winterfell!" The smile fell from her face and she quickly looked away, around the room as the heat creeped up her neck.

"So what is this order you wish to be made?"

"Ah, yes," Iona stumbled over her words as she glanced back to the Smithy, "I wish to commission a longsword and throwing daggers to be made," Iona knew they had a ward, Greyjoy and a bastard, but those gifts could be made later, "those must be finished within the week, but I have to other things I wish to be commissioned, those can be made within the coming months and sent to Winterfell."

"Throwing daggers, eh?"

"Yes, they must be lightweight but sharp. Perhaps a blackened color with a direwolf accent? I think that'd be lovely."

The Smithy laughed again, "throwing daggers aren't made to be lovely my Lady, they are made to be deadly. But, I will do as you say; it is a gift after all. The longsword my Lady?"

Iona thought for just a moment, "a longsword that's light and easy to swing, but deadly. Silver and iron with steel accents on the handle. The pommel should be made to look like a direwolf." Yes, a perfect gift for someone she hardly knew; play to the family, not the man.

"A stunning present it will be, for your good Lord husband I assume?"

Her breath caught in her throat at the question, "yes." A mere whisper, but the Smithy heard and smiled.

"I have two assistants that will help me get these done within the week! The other two gifts, my Lady?"

"One longsword should be crafted as well. The pommel should be made to be a kraken, for the Greyjoy ward. The tentacles should be sharp, so if he must bash the pommel into someone's face it will hurt," the comment made Ser Byron chuckle behind her, "the other sword..." she paused, would it be disgraceful if she made a replica of the other sword? She glanced behind her, "Ser Byron, what would you recommend for the... Stark, uh - "

"Bastard? I would not get him a gift my Lady. He is a bastard, not part of the family or a ward of them."

Eleonora looked down at the ground, begging not to be asked the same question from her Lady. Iona sighed and thought for a moment, "a dagger then. Sharp like a direwolf's tooth, shape it as such as well. Make the handle to look like a direwolf's mouth."

"A fantastic present my Lady, I will do my best and I will be honored to craft such fine gifts."

"Thank you Smithy Stern, have the two sent up to the Keep within the week."

"Of course my Lady, thank you for your business." They discussed payment and decided upon six dragons, for everything. Smithy Stern tried to talk down the price, but Iona would have nothing to do with it. She said it was something she could do for a man that she had grown up with, that she'd never see again. This made the Smithy frown and embrace Iona; she felt like a doll in his arms and it saddened her to hear him sniffle back tears.

"They will treat you well or I will spear them."

Iona smiled up at him and he placed a sloppy kiss on her hand before releasing her back into the fold.

* * *

They arrived back at the Keep just before sunset and Ser Byron excused himself from their presence, heading back to the guard's quarters. Iona knew why Eleonora stayed quiet, but said nothing of it. It was ugly of her to do so, but perhaps in some way Iona wanted to express how she felt inside - perhaps in the wrong way. They made it back to Iona's chambers and suddenly in the familiar room, without the dozens of servants made her collapse to her knees.

"My Lady!" Eleonora gasped and crouched down beside Iona as her Lady began gasping for breath, her chest heaving shallowly, "my Lady you need to breath!" Iona retched as her throat tightened and Eleonora wept; she had little knowledge of what to do for her lady. She merely took her into an embrace and leaned against the closed door, sobbing as Iona tried to catch her breath. The ugly feeling came back and Iona pushed back from Eleonora, "no, don't touch me! Don't comfort me!" Her commands were wheezy and catching in her throat, but Eleonora held her even closer; her embrace threatening to crush Iona. Iona whined and pleaded to be released as her breathing eased. She swallowed back tears, choking on them as her stomach twisted.

Eleonora silently wept as Iona leaned into her handmaiden and suddenly they were both crying. Iona wept loudly, the tears running over her cracked lips and she thought she sounded like a child.

"I'm scared," Iona finally lamented, "I'm so scared and worried, I'm angry and I - I don't know what to do Eleonora." Her voice was weak, scratchy at best and her hands wound into her skirting; her fists collecting the tuffs of her plaited dress and tugged at it, "I don't know what to do."

"You breath," Eleonora requested, "you breath and cry, let it all out." And so Iona did.

* * *

Iona groaned and rolled over, her hands feeling beside her only to find emptiness. Her eyes fluttered open and she noted that she was tucked into her bed, the furs wrapped around her; she didn't remember how she got into her bed in the first place. When she sat up, a hand ushered her up to sit. She noticed that the hand was wrinkled and thin, when she peered up she smiled lightly, "Maester Niclas, what are you doing here?" Her voice was hoarse, she strained to make it louder. Maester Niclas offered a gentle smile and began to pat her hands, "Eleonora brought me up here, saying that you collapsed," Iona grew embarrassed, "my best diagnosis is exhaustion, she's told me that you haven't been sleeping well for the past few days; any reason why, my Lady?"

Iona opened her mouth and closed it, similar to a gasping fish, "I've become anxious."

"The traveling or the marriage?" Maester Niclas had always had a keen sense of all going ons within the Keep and even out in the town. She swore ever since she was little that he could read minds, a childish notion that always seemed true.

"Both Maester."

Maester Niclas smiled, his wrinkled face bunching up with unsure happiness, "it is natural to feel anxious about something such as this. I'm sure you've heard that your mother cried for five days straight after arriving here and screamed at every servant that dared approach her," the Maester chuckled to himself at the memory, "when I attempted to approach her, she threw her seeing glass at me. I can be rest assured however, that you will not do that." He looked at her with a light glimmer in his eye, "you're a sweet girl, you have more manners than your mother. Hopefully your brother will take after you."

Iona smiled tiredly, "thank you Maester, I will do my best to honor you."

"No," Maester Niclas stopped her, "do your best to honor yourself, make yourself happy; you do too much for others and not enough for yourself." Iona looked down at her fingers, intwining them with each other and squeezing them.

"You might not believe me, but you need to be happy my Lady."

Happiness. That seemed to be the word of the day, something she couldn't stop thinking of, "happiness, huh?" Iona muttered to herself. Maester Niclas smiled to himself and stood up with little effort. He stopped at her writing desk, picking up a small, white bowl and brought it over before taking it to her lips. She glanced up at him, "a sleeping poultice." Iona drank the entire bowl and laid back down in her bed.

"Sleep now child, I will check you in the morning."

Then he left. Iona slipped down into her bed, pulling the furs up to her chin and then up over her head. She cradled herself in the warmth of her bed and wrapped herself in the furs; the fire crackling in the background filled her ears and lulled her to sleep. Perhaps she'd rest longer tonight than she had in the past few days.

 **AN: Thank you for all the reviews, follows, and alerts! They've made me soooo happy to see in my e-mail this morning :) I'm glad people are enjoying this fanfic!**

 **scarlettsoldier: Thank you for your kind words and that is a huuuge compliment! I promise next chapter Robb and Iona will meet ;)**

 **Nellaus: Since Hemlock Grove is located in the North, they are considered to be bannermen of the Starks; however, if bannermen are not called upon they can choose to not get involved in wars, battles, etc. That's how they have their neutral standing, if they are called upon of course they will fight less incur the wrath of the Starks! If the Rhys have a choice, they choose not to fight which lead many to call them cowards - this is a small synopsis, but it shall be explained further in the coming chapters (I hope this all makes sense!)  
I modeled Willard Rhys after a kinder and younger Walder Frey (you'll see why in the coming chapters as well). He is bold and comes off as rude because all he wants is power and he's willing to do anything for it.**

 **Lisa: Thank you for your review! I'm very excited to start developing these characters, especially all of my OCs and I hope everyone enjoys watching them grow! I've updated pretty fast, eh? ;)**

 **Again thank you all! I hope you've enjoyed the new chapter, a better and closer view of Iona. Plus all of Iona's relationships!**


	3. Three: Departure & Arrival

**Of Hemlock and Wolves  
** _SyntheticProduct_

* * *

Longer Summary: People often forget that Hemlock is not just pretty and dainty, a small flower that is pleasing to the eye; it is poisonous, but when you plant them in abundance, it's deadly. Hemlock Grove got it's name for the deadly accuracy of their bowmen, for their trained warriors, but also known because they were almost neutral in every war. Natives of Hemlock Grove would say that it was as simple as they wanted peace, but others called them out on selfishness; berated them for it. Besides their ferocious talents, there was also a softer side to the town; they were simple lumberers and miners, crafting things from what they gathered and sold them as specialties. The Rhys family controlled Hemlock Grove, they have for more than a millennia since it was built with their own hands. From generation to generation, the land and it's keep (Bolete Keep) was passed down and handled accordingly, but now that Willard Rhys has his hands on it he plans to gain more and more for his family, even going as far as going into battle against House Targaryen. Now was the time of peace, but there is much more power to be gained. Especially through marriages of convenience.  
Robb/Iona; Theon/Sansa; Jon/Gretchen (another OC)

* * *

Chapter Three: **Departure & Arrival**

* * *

The end of the week was tumultuous. Not only was the Keep bustling with energy, but the town was as well; they set up a celebration of Iona's life, a festival of sorts. There was a feast in the town and games had been set up; ones that Iona played when she was a child and ones that she had played with the town's children when she visited. There was drinks pouring from taps and conversation flew smoothly from everyone. Iona participated for more than a few hours and chatted with the townsfolk, the sick feeling was there but it was softer or barely there at times. Her mother mingled for an hour and Bethally refused to come down at all; her father stayed far longer than even Iona had, and when she awoke the next morning he was _still_ in the town. He stayed at the tavern over night and had a horse take him back to the Keep early in the noon.  
It was a fantastic time, but the anxious feeling evolved even more when within a few days another raven appeared. The Stark's colored ribbon tied around its ankle and it squawked repeatedly at her father's study window. Her father grinned wildly and Iona swore that she had never seen her father move that fast before, even before his injury.

"Sit, sit," he unwrapped the note from the raven's ankle and she watched as his hands shook, "here read it to me." He forced the letter into her hands, probably shaking more than his but for a different reason. The sick feeling was back in full force, but she pushed it away and unfolded the letter, peeling back the waxen seal.

 _Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove,_

 _It pleases me to hear of the happiness that this union has caused, and I can assure you that my family feels the same way. We await your reply and your arrival at Winterfell. We assure you that you and your family will be quite comfortable here. When you arrive we shall flush out the details of the entire marriage ceremony and as well as sorting out the dowry. My wife is elated to meet her new daughter and I as well, as I hope you are ready to meet your new son._

 _With the sincerest regards,_

 _Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell_

Her father clapped his hands together, "this is magnificent, we shall set out before tomorrow's noon then," he smiled down at his daughter and placed a wet kiss upon her forehead, "you are far more wonderful than I could ever imagine my child! Now, write the reply."

Iona stilled her shaking hands and nodded her head, taking the quill and began writing down her father's words.

 _Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell,_

 _Magnificent news, my friend! We shall leave before tomorrow's noon and we shall arrive within two weeks if the weather is kind. My family is glad to receive a new son into our fold, and my daughter is waiting impatiently to meet your family - her new family. We shall meet face to face once again, and until then -_

 _The hand of Iona Rhys with the voice of,_

 _Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove_

She barely had time to fold it and seal it close before her father tore it from her hands. He tied it to the raven's foot and shooed it from his window, "good now, I shall go tell your mother the news. I doubt she will want to come along, the old cow, but I shall ask anyway. Go finish packing and get a good night's sleep!" It had almost scared Iona about how pleased he was with all of this, and she thought her father even had a _skip_ in his step. He didn't wait for her to leave before setting down the hallway, the tapping of his cane grew quieter and quieter until it wasn't heard. Iona sat in the chair, her back straighter than a board as her stomach churned; it was all happening faster than she expected, it was all happening faster than she wanted. She was going to be married. She would no longer be a Rhys, but a Stark; it was a foreboding feeling that rippled in her chest.  
She sat for a moment more before standing up, rather suddenly which made her head spin, and quietly exited her father's study. Iona twisted her hands against her stomach, pushing it against her abdomen until she felt as if she could hardly bear it any longer. She leveled her steps, calculating them almost as she nodded her head at the servants rushing by. Her stomach churned and it became hard to swallow, it became hard to breath. She picked up her steps, walking faster and faster until she was almost at a sprint.

When Iona made it to her chambers, she pushed the door open with such force that it crashed into the wall behind it and she slammed it with just as much force. Eleonora jumped at the noise and turned to see her lady panting and flushed, "my Lady? Whatever is the matter?" Iona nearly tackled Eleonora with an embrace, her arms clinging tightly around her friend's neck as her breath slowly returned to her. Eleonora simply cradled Iona's head with her hands and made a soothing hum in the back of her throat, "did the reply come, my Lady?"

Iona just nodded her head, not trusting her voice; she felt like a small child once again. Eleonora began to stroke Iona's braided hair, "Lady Iona, you knew this day was coming. This will begin a new chapter for you, I am sure that your husband will be kind and understanding; you of all people know now to judge a book by the summary given," Eleonora pulled back from the embrace to show Iona a gentle smile, "you know nothing of him yet, you have nothing to be scared of. He is probably just as confused and scared as you."

Iona pulled herself away from Eleonora and gave her a tight-lipped smile, "you are always correct, I know... I know these things, but it is truly terrifying. I will call somewhere else my home. I will never wake in my chambers again, never hear my brother crying down the hall - it's all so new."

"New isn't always bad my Lady, you try so hard to be level-headed but you can show you're scared; it doesn't make you any less of a lady." Iona had disagreed with her there; if anyone had seen that shameful display of control... it wouldn't have been good, that's for sure. However, Iona smiled and nodded. The sick feeling was still twisted in her stomach, like a curling snake waiting to strike. Perhaps she shouldn't have said anything at all, "father says we will be leaving by noon tomorrow." This didn't cause any panic in Eleonora; she had already packed some time ago, readying for her journey. The suddenness of the departure, however, shocked her through, "this soon?"

"He was elated to receive Lord Stark's letter today; he doesn't want to waste much time."

After the conversation came to a halt, Eleonora began checking and re-checking her lady's trunks. She made sure that all her embroidery supplies were packed away neatly, that the dresses were not creasing, that the shoes were clean, that the books had been handled correctly - Eleonora wanted everything to be perfect for when they left. Iona offered to help, but Eleonora refused multiple times until Iona finally gave up. Instead, she sat down with her embroidery hoop and began to finish her project. By the time it was supper, Iona had finished and Eleonora was done with her chores as well as checking the trunks.

"Come my lady, supper is being served now." Eleonora helped Iona up from her chair, "I am not a doll, I will not break." Iona hissed quietly, but Eleonora just smiled. She said nothing in reply to the comment which made Iona even more irritated; somehow this woman knew how to push just the right buttons. Eleonora escorted Iona down to the dinning hall before bidding her farewell. Iona entered the dinning hall, trying to exude false confidence as she strode over to her father's side without even glancing once at her mother nor at her sister. When she sat down at the table, her father extended his hand out and in return, she placed her hand in his. He placed a kiss on her knuckles and chuckled quietly, "isn't this fantastic my child? Marrying up into the Starks?" Iona's heart thrummed loudly in her chest, "of course it is father, quite the honor." He roared with laughter and Iona felt sickened by it, "think of it! The power between our houses! Quite amazing isn't it, Julianna?" Her mother bristled at the question.

"Of course my good Lord husband, power is everything to you after all. Marrying down to a Frey must've been a real hit for you." Her voice was chilled and her father only glanced out of the corner of his eye to her, "watch your tone Julianna, I am not always a kind man."

"Have you ever been kind? Do you even have a kind bone in your body?" Her mother antagonized. Iona watched as she popped three grapes into her mouth before chasing it down with half a goblet of wine. Her mother then turned to look at her with a sneered grin, "are you happy my daughter? Finally leaving this place, for a man you've never met? That you will have to marry and obey? Birth him sons and daughters until he decides it is fit for him?"

"Julianna!" Iona jumped at her father's voice, almost too enraptured by her mother's mean spiritedness, "give me Travan."

"What? No." Her mother cradled her brother to her bosom; his almost blackened curls pressing down to his forehead. His blue eyes flashed over to his eldest sister and he smiled, giggled in such a soft way that made Iona melt.

"Iona must say goodbye to her baby brother, he probably will not see her for a time." The realization hurt Iona more than anything else, perhaps. Her mother allowed little time with her baby brother, but when she did hold him she would sing softly for him and kiss his cheeks until he asked for 'no mo'.

Her mother looked at her father like he had sprouted another arm, "Iona can say goodbye to him tomorrow at the gates."

"She will say goodbye now Julianna, give me the boy." Her father's voice rose and Iona could tell this was going to be less than pleasant. Her mother nearly hissed as she handed Travan to her father and her father passed Travan to her. He gurgled loudly, blowing bubbles with his spit and pulled on her braid. He giggled and did it again until Iona held him close to her, hugged him until he started wriggling around in her grasp. He babbled and clapped his hands, his feet pushing on her lap so he bounced. Iona felt like crying, looking at his cheeky face and watching him smile; she wouldn't be around to see him grow, to see him walk, or hear him talk. Iona was sure that Bethally and her mother would only speak nasty things about her to her baby brother, and she wouldn't even be here to counter their claims. She held him close once again and when she went to give Travan back to her father, he started to cry. Her mother was in a tizzy sooner than anyone else. She nearly jumped from her chair to collect him from Iona, but when she went to pull him away he started crying more.

He screamed 'no' and the fattest tears rolled down his cheeks. Iona simply held him close once again and he stopped.

"Give me my child back now." Her mother demanded and when Iona went to hand him off again, he started to cry. Her mother pressed a hand to her ear and simply groaned, "fine, hold him and after dinner give him to the Septa, I don't need to deal with this." Iona had never seen her mother's face this red before, she looked like an apple freshly picked from the orchard. She stormed out of the dinning hall without so much as a goodbye and Bethally followed after her, sending a nasty glare towards her older sister. Her father just laughed loudly and pat his son's head, "looks like only one sound drives the cow away and now I know the secret."

It really wasn't a secret, not much anyway. When Travan would cry into the night, her mother would drop him off with Iona; a sort of punishment, she supposed. She dealt with the crying infant much longer than her mother did and she knew how to relax Travan by now.  
She snuggled Travan close and leaned against him lightly, smiling when she felt his pudgy hands lightly slap at her back. She pulled back and kissed his cheek before eating her supper.

She bid goodnight to her father as she carried Travan on her hip, bouncing him with every step. He clapped his hands more and laughed loudly as they made their way down the torch-lit corridor. Iona sang softly and Travan babbled along, moving his head from side to side and giggling. When she arrived at the Septa's chambers, she had knocked three times and waited patiently. Septa Petra opened the door and looked between the two smiling siblings, "looks like someone had a good time tonight, didn't he little Lord?" Travan just clapped his hands and leaned into his sister's shoulder. Iona placed a kiss on his forehead, "he was great tonight at dinner, only cried when mother tried to take him away, but he did eat some grapes!" Septa Petra looked pleased with the information and held out her arms for him, "come on little Lord, time for bed." Travan looked at the Septa's outstretched arms and leaned away from her.

"No." His voice was so small that neither of the women heard it at first, but he screamed it again: "No!" Septa Petra tried to wrestle him from Iona, Iona pushing Travan in the Septa's arms and he started to cry. He made a grabbing motion towards Iona and babbled loudly. Iona glanced at the Septa, "may I keep him in my room for the night? It is my last night here after all..." Septa Petra looked as if she didn't even need to think about it as she placed Travan back into Iona's arms. He hiccuped a few times before nuzzling into her neck, his thumb secured in his mouth as he rubbed her shoulder blade.

"Of course, you should be able to spend time with your brother," Septa Petra looked softly at Iona, "you are such a fine young woman, I remember the day I taught you how to sew and you cried every time you pricked your finger. Now look at you... I wish you luck in the next part of your life Lady Iona." Septa Petra's eyes glistened and in return, Iona's eyes did as well.

"Septa..."

"Do not thank me," Septa Petra held up her hands and smiled, "now go spend time with your brother."

* * *

"Travan don't blow the bubbles into my face!" Iona laughed, brushing away the soap bubbles that her little brother created. When she returned from the Septa's chambers, she was pleasantly surprised with a hot tub of water. Travan nearly dived into it when she set him down, wobbling on his feet as he attempted to walk to it. Eleonora said she would watch Travan while Iona took a bath, but instead Iona insisted that her and her brother would share one. She poured lavishly scented soap into the water and stirred it before plopping Travan in it. Iona got in after.

He splashed the water around and made noises as he attempted to throw bubbles at Eleonora. He stomped his feet in the copper tub, laughing each time he heard the echo through the metal.

"You will make a great little lord, Travan," Iona spoke quietly as she watched him and in some sense, it looked like he understood as he grinned up at his sister, "I will make sure to write to you when you can read, and visit you often even if mother protests." Iona remembered the night that Travan was born, her father paced outside his chambers as they listened to their mother's screams of agony. Bethally had retired early that night and complained the next morn of the noise; however, Iona was too excited to meet her sibling to sleep. Instead, she waited with her Lord father until they heard a babe screaming. Septa Petra had exited the room, a tired smile on her face, as she announced that the Lord had finally had a son. Her father smiled so wide that Iona had feared his mouth might split. She even held him before her mother, pulling the swaddled babe close to her chest so they could match their heartbeats and that was the moment she decided that he was her little Lord brother; from the curls that toppled on top of his head, to the curling toes - she knew she would love him with every fiber of her being, until it hurt.

Travan looked at Iona, cocking his head to the right before stretching out his arms to make a grabbing motion with his hands. Iona stifled a chuckle before bringing him to her bosom, wrapping him up tightly in her arms and just for a moment, she imagined him as the swaddled babe once more. She waited until their heartbeats matched to pull back, just in time to see a yawn part from his lips. His hands slapped her collarbone with effort, babbling as he hugged his sister again, "Eleonora, will you fetch his towel? Dry him off first and I shall wash my hair."

Eleonora draped the small towel around the little lord's shoulders before plucking him out of the bath. He cried very little as Eleonora dried him down and as Iona washed her hair. When it was time, Iona stood from the tub and Eleonora dried off her lady's body as well. Travan, all dressed in his sleeping attire, was crawling around Iona's feet and pulling himself up on her legs. He babbled incoherently as his legs wobbled from beneath him. When Iona tied her robe around her waist, she pulled Travan up to her hip and sat down at her dressing table. She bounced him and sang a lullaby that Maddie had used to sing to her.

"Baby mine, don't you cry; baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine." It was a sweet tune that Travan knew well, it had been one of his favorites that she would sing. He clapped his hands before resting in the crook of her shoulder as Eleonora combed through her lady's hair.

"Little one when you play, pay no heed to what they say; let your eyes sparkle and shine. Never a tear, baby of mine." Iona rocked her body from side to side, much to the pleasure of Travan and to the displeasure of Eleonora. The little lord's eyes shut softly as he gurgled and spit, wetting a spot on Iona's shoulder; not that she minded a bit, he had spit up on her more times than she cared to count. Iona hummed the tune as Eleonora finished her menstrations on Iona's hair, deeming it well enough to sleep on as she braided it. Iona stood as softly as she could and laid Travan down on the bed. He cried for a moment, his eyes opening before he stuck his thumb between his lips, suckling it before falling back to sleep.  
Eleonora helped her lady into her nightgown quickly before bidding goodnight to the little lord, a simple kiss on the forehead, and a hug to her lady. When the door that separated their rooms closed, Iona slipped into bed just behind her brother. The feeling of the bed shifting must've woken him as he cried until Iona brought him close to her chest, rubbing his back as she sang softly again.

"If they knew all about you, they'd end up loving you too. All those same people who scold you... what they'd give just for the right to hold you," Iona thought of her mother as silence hung in the air, "from your head down to your toes. You're not much, goodness knows, but you're so precious to me; sweet as can be. Baby of mine." When Iona glanced down, Travan had fallen back asleep. His pudgy hand circled around the end of her braid, pulling it close his face and snuggling with it. Iona pulled him even closer so his head rested against her bosom, encircling him with her arms as she fell asleep as well.

* * *

Septa Petra arrived in the morn to get Travan from the warmth of Iona's bed, bidding her farewell as she did so. She hugged Iona so tight that Iona had feared for the well-being of her baby brother who was just between them. Kisses were exchanged and the Septa left with her brother, still snuggled to the Septa's breast as Iona could only watch silently.

Eleonora helped to prepare Iona, styling her hair into a simple braided up-do and helping her to slip into a heavy travel dress. Eleonora had been nothing but smiles and Iona felt like dread had consumed her. Iona slipped on her fur-lined cloak as servants parted to and from her room with her trunks. Ser Byron stood dutifully outside the door, patiently waiting as the women busied themselves. Ser Byron had been one of the men that was part of the group of twenty-two that was being sent to Winterfell to live out their lives; he wore a grim smile, one that Iona felt encouraged to return. At least he didn't have to marry someone he never met.

"Please Ser, if these gifts aren't presented I will be whipped by my master." Iona was startled at the young voice and took a step towards the door, glancing out to see several young men standing just outside the threshold. When the young boy that had spoken saw her, he bowed, "my Lady Iona, these are the gifts you had commissioned by the townsfolk."

"Good gracious, by the Old Gods, that was very close to not reaching me in time," Iona stepped out into the hall and smiled gently, "please have them sent down to my carriage, they will be packaged accordingly. Oh, and thank your master for the speedy delivery." The young boys all bowed and followed her orders. Ser Byron sighed, "my Lady, I could've taken care of that."

"I know you could've, but I thought it be nice to talk to someone instead of standing around like a cow waiting for slaughter," Iona mused, "now that I have, I feel much better." She saw Ser Byron's eyes widen, but he said nothing. Eleonora had finished cleaning their rooms, to leave it pristine for whatever they might be used for next.

"Come my Lady, it is time to bid farewell to your mother and siblings." Ser Byron said loudly, holding out his arm for her. She slipped hers into his and entwined her pinky finger with Eleonora's as the walked. Iona felt like crying, she had started for a moment before Eleonora reprimanded her, "it's not as if you will be leaving forever, I'm sure your good lord husband will allow visits." Eleonora's rough fingers wiped away the tears on Iona's cheeks as Ser Byron pretended not to be paying attention. His eyes did drift over to Eleonora as she mothered Iona, "are you ready, my Lady?" They had stood before the Keep's large doors and all Iona could manage was a simple nod of her head. The light nearly blinded Iona, but put on a pretty smile as they walked into the courtyard of the Keep. There were hundreds of servants there, all smiling towards her and curtsying low.  
She walked passed them, smiling towards them accordingly. She had to swallow the lump in her throat as she saw her mother and sister, her brother swaddled in her mother's arms. Iona paused in front of her mother, Ser Byron and Eleonora going on ahead to finish preparations. Her mother's face was screwed up in what Iona could only assume was annoyance.

"Bear him many sons and you should live a fulfilled life." Her mother spoke quietly. Iona nodded her head and stepped forth, placing a kiss on her mother's signet ring and smiled, "goodbye mother." Her mother nodded her head in approval and Iona stepped towards her sister. Bethally was beautiful in the morn glow, her skin was paled and free of blemishes; she was even smiling, "goodbye dear sister, do write will you? I'm sure the farther north you are, the better the gossip." Bethally hugged her which had surprised Iona for a moment before returning the hug. They pulled apart and Iona stared down at her baby brother. His blue eyes stared up into her green ones, "goodbye baby brother, what a little lord you will be." Iona placed a kiss on her brother's forehead and stepped back from all of them.

She heard her brother sniffle and he began to cry. He screamed and yelled, repeating the same word _no_. She had tried to will herself not to look back, but she was weak. She glanced back towards her brother and her heart broke, his hands were reaching out for her and his eyes begged her to return. Through all the screams and tears, there was one word that broke her heart: "NONA, NONA, NONA," he was screaming _her_ name and that made tears sting at her eyes. Iona offered him a smile and blew a kiss. He continued screaming her name, continued to cry even after she had entered the carriage. She heard his screams all the way down in the town, something like the wailing of a banshee. In the privacy of her carriage, she cried. She wept so hard that her throat began to become sore. Eleonora wrapped an arm around her lady's shoulders and comforted her quietly. Outside, she could hear the townsfolk screaming their goodbyes. Iona wiped back the tears and pulled down the carriage's screen. The townsfolk cheered as they saw her poke her head out, and even with wet cheeks she bid them all goodbye with a wave of her hand.

When they had gotten pass Hemlock Grove's walls, her heart dropped into her stomach; this was all really happening. She watched as the walls grew farther and farther away as the path they took became more bumpy. Iona kept the screen off of the window for many hours, watching as the scenery began to change around her. Eleonora busied herself by hemming a dress, a simple navy blue dress that was lined with white fur; it had been a gift from Iona for her one and eighth namesake day. Iona continued to stare out the window of the carriage before a horse pulled up beside the carriage, her father held his head high as he spoke.

"If the weather stays as good as it is, we shall arrive in Winterfell within the week. We will be traveling the first day through the night and stopping in an inn later on tomorrow night." He brought his hand down on the horse's behind and it neighed before speeding off towards the front of the group. Iona felt her heart drop once again as tears stung her eyes, but she wiped them away hurriedly. This was going to be a long week and an even longer life.

* * *

Six days had passed and Iona began to become bored and became more anxious than the days previous. She grew so bored of sitting inside the carriage that Ser Byron brought her horse around, a young stallion with chestnut fur and large, blackened eyes, that was affectionately named Honey. Ser Byron saddled the stallion up for her and when they stopped, only for a few moments, Ser Byron helped her onto Honey.  
The stallion had been a wild one that her father brought home when she was all of eight. At first, it had been a gift for her mother, but the stallion refused to be ridden or touched by anyone. Iona was the first person he let approach, the first to ride him and from then on there was a special connection between the two.

"Careful my Lady!" Eleonora called from the carriage as she watched as Iona settled into the saddle. Her legs were on Honey's right side, side-saddle like any noble born lady rode. Iona sent a small smile towards Eleonora before thanking Ser Byron for his help. As the caravan began to move again, Ser Byron rode beside her and kept a pleasant conversation going.

"The weather is pleasing today, a good day to be riding for sure my Lady." Ser Byron bounced slightly in the saddle, still not used to the mare beneath him. He was shy to admit it at first, but it had only been the third time he had been on a saddled horse. Iona found it amusing when he shared the information and Eleonora smiled gleefully, sharing with him that she had never rode a horse by herself before; she complimented him, calling him brave.

"Quite and the scenery is pleasing as well, the trees are turning beautiful colors." The trees far east of Hemlock Grove already started turning reds and yellows, a sign of autumn. Ser Byron chuckled, "yes they are quite beautiful aren't they?" When Iona glanced out of the corner of her eye, she saw that her guard was not staring at the trees. Indeed, he was staring at Eleonora who had taken up sewing a few of the solider's shirts. Iona chuckled lowly, but kept the observation to herself. Iona couldn't deny the attraction between her guard and her handmaiden, it had been there when Eleonora first arrived. Of course, she was a beautiful girl - sometimes standing beside her made Iona feel small. She had tawny hair that reached her waist, but it was always braided in elegant fashions and she was thin with hints of curves to her. Eleonora had the brightest brown eyes, like molten chocolate with full lips that were almost always painted rouge. Ser Byron was not wed despite him being older than both her and Eleonora. When Iona asked him about it when she was younger, he told her that he wanted to marry for love - just like his father had done with his mother. Something that Iona couldn't even dream about now.

"Is Winterfell nice?" Iona questioned quietly, holding the reins snuggly in her hands. She squeezed them tightly and pet Honey's mane when he neighed. Ser Byron shrugged his shoulders, "if rumors are to be correct. It is different from Hemlock Grove, duller in color but I've heard that the people are kind just like back home." Home, Iona thought, her home was Winterfell now. The thought weighed heavily on her mind, "oh." Was all she could manage and the pair succumbed to a peaceful silence. That was until their caravan had suddenly stopped, and Iona could hear shouting from the front. She strained her eyes to see what was going on and she got what she wished for as a group of men started charging down the line. Some were on horses and others were on foot; Iona had little time to even entertain the idea as her father's guards started pulling out their swords.

"My Lady!" Eleonora had come to Iona's side, trying to figure what the fuss was all about and paled considerably when she saw the men, "we must ride away from this spot!" Ser Byron seemed to agree as he nearly leapt off his horse to help Eleonora onto the back of Honey. Iona swung her leg onto the other side of Honey, not caring if her dress ripped or ridden up to show her pale leg. The stallion whinnied at the sudden weight and was ready to buck before Ser Byron delivered a hard smack to the stallion's rear. Honey took off in a blaze of speed, parting down from the road and into the grassy fields. Iona's heart squeezed as Eleonora held onto her lady's waist, fearing of falling off the horse. When Iona gazed back, she saw that Ser Byron was already engaged with one of the men and two men on horses were riding after her.

"Yah!" Iona yelled, slapping down the reins on Honey's neck, willing him to go faster than he actually was. Eleonora screamed as an arrow whizzed by her head nearly striking Iona in the shoulder. Iona commanded Eleonora to hold on tighter as she whipped the reins against Honey's neck, his legs thundering on the mudden ground beneath them. Honey was considerably faster than their horses, he had been trained to outrun most, but fear still trickled into her as they followed, hoof to hoof with them. When they had reached the middle of the field, Iona kicked the stirrups into Honey's side and pulled the rein's to the right; this was her chance, she'd have to take it. With a sharp turn, Honey was sprinting back _towards_ the two men. Eleonora screamed for Iona to stop, to turn, to do anything, but the fear that Iona had, had bubbled into a strategy. The two men on their horses would not be able to turn fast enough as they road by them and she would be able to lead the chase instead of being chased. She was sure that her father's men had taken care of the other men on the road; it was a chance she would have to take. As they neared the two men, she saw them slow down and ready their bows.

"Duck!" Iona screeched at the top of her lungs as Honey smashed into one of the men, knocking him down from his horse and led the other to loosen the knocked back arrow; the feathered arrow flew a few paces to the right, missing them entirely. Honey was breathing heavily by then, but Iona pushed him to go faster. The last man had left behind his friend, but Iona could hear his screams of pain; perhaps when he had fallen he had broken his legs. The man was catching up to Honey, the arrows he knocked back and let fly were soaring just above their heads. Iona felt Eleonora's hands loosen from her waist so she let one hand from the reins hold onto her handmaiden's hands, securing Eleonora close to her body. When Honey had trampled up the hill, back onto the road, Ser Byron had an arrow knocked back in a bow. He was bloodied, but Iona couldn't tell if it was his blood or someone else's. His eyes were wild as the man followed her up the ridge. He let the arrow fly past Iona, she was sure it would hit her, but a pained cry echoed from behind her and she knew that the man had been injured. Honey would've crashed into the parked carriage had Iona not pulled back on the reins and forced him into a sudden stop. It lurched Iona forward and without both hands on the reins, she flew over Honey's head and crashed onto the muddy ground. Eleonora had landed atop of her and Iona wasn't sure if her handmaiden was alive. Fear made her empty her stomach and the pain forced the bile to part from her lips.

But, she was safe.

A handful of her father's guards rushed to her aid as Honey pawed at the ground, his chest heaving heavily. Ser Byron helped Eleonora off of Iona and that's when Iona saw that Eleonora was still breathing, but she had passed out. Relief made her legs like jelly as one of the guards helped her to steady. Mud caked her dress, brown rain water smeared down her face in angry drops, but she was safe. Ser Byron was carrying Eleonora like she was a babe, cradling her to his chest as he stood and the guard holding Iona was shaken, nearly dropping her to the ground.  
Thundering horse hooves had stopped just before the carriage and she could hear her father's voice bellowing out above the silence, "Iona! Iona! Where is my daughter? Where is she?" His voice was strained, angry even. She saw him stalking towards her, his cane sinking into the mud beside him and he was nearly falling over because of it. When he saw her, muddy but no visible wounds he was relieved. He stomped over to her and enclosed her in a tight embrace; he smelt of earth and blood. He pulled back and checked her over for any injuries, "are you injured?" That's when Iona felt her head throb and her father tightened his hold on her arms.

"My daughter is bleeding! Send for the healer!" Her father touched her head and hissed as blood painted them. Iona stared at her father's hand and that's when she fainted.

* * *

Iona woke with a start, the pounding her head amplified as she sat up.

"My Lady! Please lay back down, your injury is still fresh!" Iona was startled by the loud voice, but she knew that worried tone anywhere. Eleonora stilled Iona from sitting up farther, her hand was pressed against her chest firmly.

"You are unharmed?" Iona asked quietly even though her head still pounded, "are you injured?" Eleonora chuckled almost silently, "no my Lady, I simply fainted from fear. A light bump on the head, but nothing more." Eleonora pressed two fingers to the red knob on the side of her forehead. Iona sighed and smiled lightly, "were there any injuries within my father's guard?"

Eleonora's head shook, "no my Lady, no injuries other than a few scrapes and scratches - you were the worse of the injuries." Iona puzzled for a moment, "I had the worse injuries?" As in more than one injury? Iona's heart stirred.

"You took a hit to the head, you had a gash along your hairline as well as torn skin on the palms of yours hands. The healer said you had dislocated your shoulder from the fall, but she was able to set it; she told me that you'd be sore, but there was nothing more than that..." Eleonora trailed off, "thank you my Lady, you kept me safe." Iona wanted to scoff, but she smiled instead, "I did nothing of the sort, the fear took over and I did what was necessary."

"Well whatever it was my Lady, thank you for that." Eleonora stood from her chair which Iona hadn't even noticed she was sitting in before. When she looked around, she felt very much confused. She was in a room and in a bed, it wasn't exactly comfy, but it was a nice change from the lumpy carriage or the tents. Iona noticed all at once that she was in pain, sure, but she was also desperately thirsty. As if Eleonora had read her mind, she offered Iona a clay cup of cool water. Iona sipped the water, the cool water melting away the cotton she felt in her throat.

"What happened to the men that attacked us?" Iona finally asked. It was so tense in the room that she needed to alleviate it. Eleonora paused as she glanced around the room before leaning close to Iona's ear, "Ser Byron came by to report what was going on, he told me that your father was interrogating the man that was left out in the field. He had broken legs, but wasn't dead like the other men," Eleonora bit down on her bottom lip, but continued, "he said he was sent by someone that didn't give them a name; to kill you."

Iona froze. Kill her? Why? Iona felt very sick all of a sudden. Eleonora noticed Iona's face pale as the words left her mouth and suddenly regret filled her. Iona's hands squeezed at the blankets, pulling it up to her stomach and tightened her grip. A knock at the door made Iona's face go stony. Eleonora hurriedly went to the door and opened it, letting whoever it was inside the room. Two guards, one of them being Ser Byron, and her father entered the room. His face was scrunched up in irritation, but when he saw Iona's wide eyes his face fell into relief once again.

"I see you've finally woken," her father took Eleonora's chair and wrapped his hands around Iona's shaking one, "you've been out for three days, I've sent a rider ahead with the news of the attack to Winterfell; a small guard is accompanying my squire."

* * *

 _Eddard_

When a rider with a small accompaniment for guards rode towards Winterfell with the Rhys's family colors flying above them, Eddard had sent out his own rider to greet them. There was no possibilities that these could've been the whole of them; Willard Rhys was a careful man, paranoid some would say. Besides the fact that he would be riding east with at least a company of twenty-two, the amount of men agreed upon in the dowry. Eddard alerted this to his good wife and to his eldest son, whom he requested to meet him in the courtyard below. His fast footsteps, heavy ones as well, echoed throughout the corridor's as he walked down to greet the company of riders.

When he entered the courtyard, his wife already stood dutiful on the side with Robb. They both looked anxious and Eddard could only smile lightly to try to alleviate any tension. He was half way across the courtyard when his rider rode in first, a serious expression plaguing his young face as the Rhys company followed in after him. The neighing and whining of the horses was nothing new, but Eddard knew that they had ridden all night and day to reach them as quickly as they could; something was definitely not right.  
A young man led the troupe, he couldn't have been more than ten and four, but he slid off his horse elegantly and bowed deeply to the Starks, "I am sorry for not announcing ourselves farther away my Lord Stark, but something has happened to our caravan." Eddard's eyebrows nearly knitted together as he frowned. The young man's face held a stony expression and a grave, thin-lipped smile played on his lips. The young man tried to openly smile, but couldn't.

"Yes? What has happened to your Lord and Lady?" The guards behind him had dismounted and bowed just as deeply, if not more. The young man breathed through his nose and tried to string together a sentence, "as we rode along the road towards Winterfell, our caravan was ambushed," Catelyn gasped and looked over to her husband, who still held the same expression, "Lady Iona was injured, not severely but we took to a small town to fix her ailments."

"Grave news indeed," Eddard mused, "what has become of the men?" This time the young man looked proud, his chest puffing out just a hint as he straightened his back, "our guards took care of them, except one that Lady Iona was able to throw off his horse. We questioned him, but he has yet to give us answers. Perhaps Lord Rhys will know more when he arrives."

Robb looked astonished by the news, "Lady Iona was able to throw one of the men off of his horse?" He quickly covered his astonishment with a small frown.

The young man smiled proudly as he spoke, "Lady Iona is a skilled rider and was able to surprise him with her stallion. His horse fell atop of him and crushed his legs, pinning him beneath the beast until it abandoned him."

"What do her injuries consist of?" Catelyn questioned. Eddard knew what was running through her head: was she scarred? Had she gone barren from a fall? Eddard had the same questions, and the answers to those questions would change their proposal drastically. The young men nodded his head to one of the guards to his right and he stepped forth, "Ser Tern reporting, my Lord. Lady Iona flipped from the front of her horse and the only injuries she received was a small gash to her head and a dislocated shoulder. Other than that, my Lord Rhys as assured me and my men that she is well." Meaning she had not gone barren. Catelyn breathed a sigh of relief, but Robb's shoulders were still tense.

"Then why has he halted his journey, only to send some riders to tell us of the ambush?"

Ser Tern inclined his head politely, "our Lady Iona fainted from shock and has not waken since, but I'm assured by the healer that she will awake soon and once she does the journey will be well under way once again." Eddard briskly nodded his head, "thank you for your report Ser Tern, did you have commands to ride back swiftly after the news was delivered?"

"Yes my Lord, but we shall return with our entire caravan within a few days time." Eddard recognized Ser Tern's name from the roster that Willard had sent by raven; he was one of them that would stay in Winterfell, as an agreement of Lady Iona's dowry.

"Then we shall see you again soon." Ser Tern bowed his head in agreement before commanding the other guards to mount their steeds yet again. The young boy looked tired, but none worse for wear. They road from the courtyard and Eddard stay stilled until the sound of hooves completely disappeared from Winterfell. When Eddard had turned to his wife, he could see the worry etched on her face. He grasped her hand tightly in his and placed a small kiss on her knuckles.

"I hope everything goes smoothly from here out," Catelyn quietly said, "I do not wish any harm to befall any of them." Catelyn and spoken Eddard's ear off about how elated she was about receiving a new daughter, a good lady daughter in any case. She was excited to hear more about her, from the lady's own mouth, because there had been nothing but rumors surrounding the young lady.  
She had been called a beauty with a strong jaw with green eyes and darkened, curled hair. She was also rumored to be kind, one of the merchants that passed through not longer ago selling Hemlock Grove made crafts, had spoken about the young lady in detail. He spoke about how she loved children and often took them down to the stream to play and that she visited the town more often than any of her family did. She knew the townsfolk's names and occupation, their families and took pride in buying their crafts. He also spoke about what a lovely singing voice she had, comparing it to a lark's coo.

Robb's shoulders were still tense and he was scowling. Eddard had to chuckle at his son, "looks like you haven't gotten out of your marriage yet." His father's voice had clearly startled him, but he relaxed little under his father's gaze, "I would never wish harm upon my good lady wife father, or anyone in her company for that matter." Eddard felt pride swell in his chest and he smiled kindly, "good."

* * *

 _Iona_

They set back out on the road again only a day later and her father remarked about how irritated he was that he was set off of his schedule. He murmured under his breath that perhaps this was worth more trouble than it was worth. She also heard him muttering about how, perhaps, he should've taken House Forrester's proposal instead of the Stark's. House Forrester however, would not gain him any power and the thought made him shutter.

Eleonora fluttered about her lady, making sure she was alright. She tended to Iona's wounds every hour, changing the bandages on her head as well as her hands. It made Iona smile a bit; it was nice to have someone worry over you sometimes. Ser Byron was elected to be the carriage guard, so now instead of riding ahead with the scouts he was stuck beside the slow moving box. He complained for the first hour, but stopped when Iona asked jokingly told him 'now you know how I feel'.

For two days they rode, almost nonstop and only rested a few hours at night. Eleonora and Iona had passed the time playing cards or chatted about what all was going on in Westeros; however, the air was still thick with the word of her attempted assassination. Iona expressed her worries to Eleonora on the subject, even outrightly rejected the idea that someone would want to kill her because Iona simply had no idea why anyone would want to kill her. She had never been outside of Hemlock Grove and the only idea she could think was because of her engagement, which quickly sullied her mood once again. The riders as well as her father's squire arrived the day previous with news from Lord Eddard Stark.  
Ser Tern reported that they asked many questions about her, the speculation he held was the good Lady Catelyn Stark seemed worried that she had become barren. Her father seemed outraged by the idea and nearly hurled his cane away from him. Iona tried to pay no mind to the talk, but an uncomfortable feeling in her lower abdomen stirred. While there were staying at the inn, Eleonora brought in the healer late at night with little explanation and expressed her concerns over her becoming barren from the fall. Iona tried to tell Eleonora that she had started her monthly bleed, but Eleonora kept cutting her off. Finally, Iona nearly yelled it and embarrassed both her and the healer while Eleonora apologized.

Iona had no idea why her father was so shocked they thought she could've been barren. She had heard of other ladies falling from their horses and sustaining abdominal wounds, leading them to be barren; it wasn't an unusual concern. She shook her head at her father's angry voice until Ser Byron spoke.

"I've heard that we will reach Winterfell either tomorrow or the day after," he pushed back his hair from his face, "or so Rayden has told me." Iona swallowed and smiled as sincerely as she could. Eleonora was fast asleep and Iona caught Ser Byron staring at her with a soft expression.

"You should tell her." Iona finally said. She watched as Ser Byron whipped his head back to meet her gaze; he looked both confused and embarrassed, "tell who what my Lady?"

"Tell Eleonora that you find her beautiful and that you wish to court her." Iona smiled to herself, teasing him brought light to the situation that she was to be married. She watched his face turn red, even his round ears tinted red. Iona amused herself, "if it pleases you, I think you'd be a lovely couple," Iona focused on her embroidery project for a moment, pulling the needle through the canvas, "you know I'd support you two if you ever decided... but first you must actually ask her." Ser Byron said nothing, just kept looking straight with a strange look in his eye. Iona certainly didn't know what to make of it; had she made him angry? Did she jest too much with him? She sighed and set down her new project, "I'm sorry if I crossed any boundaries my good Ser. I shouldn't joke about other people's affairs."

Ser Byron had always been kind to her, but this time he didn't even offer a smile when he looked straight into her eyes, "no you shouldn't, especially when you have no say in yours." The words made Iona's heart clench. She was saddened by his words and looked down at her fingers, finding them more interesting than the look in his eye. When Ser Byron saw this, he flinched back from the carriage, "I am sorry my Lady, I shouldn't have said that."

"No," Iona whispered, "you have every right because it's true." She smiled tersely at him before picking up her project once and began embroidering once again. She wove two darkened trees, the bark on each made of circles and swirls, with golden light parting between them; her house sigil. This would be a parting gift for her father, she thought, even if he doesn't treasure it he will feel honored. Near twilight, Iona had started weaving her house saying onto it as well: _It takes but a spark for the light to guide you_ , but she only made it to the word 'spark' before it became too dark to work on it. The caravan stopped for the night, and a fire was made - stew was cooked from a buck that was hunted just yesterday. The carrots and peas were mushy, but Iona didn't complain. Eleonora didn't complain either, it was one of the better meals they had on the road other than when they stopped at inns.

When supper had ended, Iona bid goodnight to her father with a simple kiss on the temple. He nodded his head, but said nothing. She returned to the carriage where Eleonora had made the floor of the carriage piled with pillows and furs. Iona didn't undress, but her corset was undone before she slipped into her makeshift bed for the night.

The next morn they expected that they would arrive at Winterfell so extra effort was put into Iona when she dressed. Eleonora laid out one of her finer dresses, a dark green dress with gold hemming; the bodice was covered in delicate golden flowers and leaves while the sleeves cinched at the elbow and let a cascade of material flow freely to the tips of her fingers. Of course, Iona donned a corset and Eleonora simply brushed through the mess of curls. A simple hairstyle was what her father wanted her to wear so, Eleonora simply braided a section of hair and pinned it over Iona's crown and left the rest of her waist, long hair free. When the caravan started moving again, Iona fiddled with her dress and to take her mind off of what was happening, she continued on her project for her father. Eleonora watched silently for a time before speaking.

"What are you making my Lady?"

Iona glanced up from her work, "a parting gift for my father, it is our house words and sigil; I'm hoping he will honor me by taking it back to Hemlock Grove." Iona usually had steady hands, but today they shook something awful. It was like a chill went through her and lingered there. Eleonora nodded her head as she braided her own hair, "I think he will love it my Lady."

Her father had not been a totally unkind man. He taught her many things, but she knew that he did not love her. She watched when he held her brother, smiling down at him like he was holding the world; sometimes, Iona felt jealousy coarse through her, but shook it off. When she was little he did not hold her, or kiss her goodnight. Sometimes she would barely see him for weeks. He honored her, she was his first born so it was but a simple duty for him. At one point, she cried herself to sleep because she found gifts she had made him discarded like trash. When she grew older, Septa Petra scolded her for crying over such a silly thing. Her Septa told her that she should be glad that he even accepted them that, that should have been enough of a testament to honor her.

So no, he would not love the gift. He would honor it because it was his duty to.

Iona said nothing, but Eleonora continued, "are you excited to see Winterfell at last my Lady?" Iona stiffened at the question and tried to smile as she answered: "of course, it will be my home after all; for many years to come."

"You know my Lady," Eleonora started, her voice lofty as she spoke, "before my mother died she told me that home is where your family is. You'll have two families now, you'll have two homes." Eleonora hardly spoke of her parents, she usually started to cry when she brought them up so it surprised Iona when she did it willingly and with a smile. Perhaps they both smiled to hide their emotions; what a pair they were. Iona smiled genuinely this time, "your mother was a wise woman."

"Yes she was my Lady," Eleonora drifted off, "yes she was."

Silence encapsulated the carriage, but it was not tense nor awkward; it was pleasing and Iona felt relaxed. In just a few hours, as the carriage kept traveling up and down hills, Iona had finished her parting gift for her father. She even put his initials in the bottom corner, so everyone knew who it belonged to. She showed it to Eleonora with pride, "this might be your best work yet my Lady." Was her reply.

"Winterfell in the distance!" Someone cried out and suddenly the relaxed atmosphere was sucked out of the carriage all together.

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb had been pacing, as his mother called it, all morn. Robb told her that he was simply walking around Winterfell to ease his emotions, but truly he was anxious. When his father told him about the proposal he wanted to refuse. He wanted to act like a child once again and stomp his foot, but he didn't; he was the heir to Winterfell after all and arranged marriages weren't exactly unusual for people like him. He simply accepted his future, but it certainly didn't mean he had to like it. Robb would treat his good wife well and his father said that _love will come in time, just like your mother and I_ , but somehow Robb didn't believe him. He wondered for the last month that perhaps his betrothed felt the same way. Maybe that is something they could bond over.

"Yes bonding over the fact we both don't want to be in this marriage," Robb said to himself, "brilliant way to start off any partnership."

"Are you talking to yourself Robb?" Robb was slightly startled, too involved in his own thoughts to hear someone sneaking up behind him. He turned around and smiled. Jon stood nearly a foot away with a perplexed expression, "I wouldn't let your betrothed seeing you like this," Jon jested, "she might find it unappealing." At the mention of what his mind was filled with, he let out a deep sigh. Robb heard a bubble of laughter part Jon's lips and he wanted to laugh along with him, but found he couldn't. He was too worried, too concerned. He was all of ten and seven, he felt this was all too soon for him; he thought life unfair, but it was a selfish thought.

"I heard your betrothed is very beautiful, is that what you're worried about?" Jon asked, stepping closer to his brother wearily. Robb was sure that he didn't want his mother ("Lady Stark" as Jon obediently called her,) to overhear him; his mother could be truly cruel to Jon and it hurt him deeply. Robb sat down on the bench just behind him, letting his head fall against the backing, "no," he admitted, "I'm worried because I've never met her, what are we to talk about? Bond over? Gods Jon, what if we have nothing in common?"

"You worry over the littlest things Robb," Jon joined him alongside the bench, patting his knee with his leathered-clad hand, "didn't you say it yourself? Bond over the fact you both don't want to wed each other." When a groan parted Robb's lips, Jon chuckled lightly. Of course he had heard that, Robb was certain that Jon had the best hearing in Winterfell - only next to his mother's, "in all seriousness Robb, you might have nothing in common, but if you try I'm sure you could find something in common. Even if it is as slight as riding horseback"

Robb thought for a moment, "I hope she is kind to you and everyone else."

"I am but a simple bastard Robb," Jon spat the word out, "she does not need to give me kindness, I am but a blemish."

"Jon -"

Someone had cleared their throat, pulling the boys from their conversation. Jon went rigid before standing up suddenly, "Lady Stark," his voice was soft, "I will leave you two to talk." He bowed slightly and left Robb with his mother. His mother smiled at him, "The Rhys party has been spotted only a few miles down the road, your father is collecting everyone to greet them in the courtyard." Robb swallowed back his fear; now the time had truly come. He nodded his head and stood from the bench, brushing off his clothes before dutifully escorting his mother to the courtyard.

A strange silence hung over the courtyard and for once, Robb was glad for it. He stood beside his mother since he was the eldest and she was currently grooming him, "Mother." He whispered, pulling her hands away from his face. She narrowed her eyes and smiled, "what can't a mother make her son presentable?"

"You're like a mother wolf licking her pups clean."

His mother obviously took that as a compliment as she smiled wide, "I am a Stark after all, and so are you so let me finish _grooming_ you." It was like she had read his thoughts; did everyone in his family had some sort of magic talent he wasn't aware of till now? Perhaps, he was just keenly aware of it in his anxious state. His mother stilled as a trumpet was blown and horses filled the courtyard, they filed in one after another and his mother returned back to stand straight next to his father. After a few moments, a carriage was pulled in as well and Robb felt like the air left his lungs. She was in there, she had to be since there were no women riding horseback.

Robb watched carefully as an older man dismounted from a large steed before pulling out a walking cane from some sort of scabbard that hung from the horse's side. He waited for a moment as a dozen or so men dismounted from their horses as well, one of them opened the carriage door and Robb held his breath. His eyes never left the carriage door and a simple, dainty foot climbing down from the carriage had caught his eye first. Then there was a pale hand that rested in the guard's as he helped her down. A dark green dress with bright gold thread hugged the woman's curves and the sea of darkened curls fell at her hips. She looked nervous, but she smiled.

She did have a beautiful smile, it pulled her cheeks taunt and Robb saw dimples appear. Four dimples if his eyesight could be trusted. There was a light dusting over freckles over the bridge of her nose and down her cheeks. She glanced up at Robb and he caught her eyes; green eyes, she had green eyes. Just as soon as he caught her eyes, she looked down at the muddy ground. Robb hoped he didn't frighten her, but he watched her walk gracefully to stand next to the older man.

This established that she _was_ his betrothed, Lady Iona Rhys, and that was Lord Willard Rhys of Hemlock Grove. Robb noticed the similarities between them, from the same hair and eyes to the same square jaw; however, she was much more feminine which he thanked the Gods for. Lord Rhys walked over toward Robb's father, escorting his daughter with the hand he didn't hold the cane with.

His father bowed which both Lord Rhys and Lady Iona returned. Robb noticed her back foot slip slightly in the mud, but she quickly steadied herself. He doubted anyone other than he had noticed; it was so slight and unless someone had been staring as closely as he was - did he just admit to himself that he was staring at her? Robb quickly diverted his eyes.

"You honor us with your presence Lord Rhys," his father said, "and you honor us with this proposal." Lord Rhys untangled his arm from Iona's and stuck out his hand which his father gladly took, "you honor my family with this proposal as well Lord Stark, I hope my daughter is pleasing enough for your son." Robb nearly coughed at the direct comment. Robb's eyes flew up to meet Iona's, she smiled but it hadn't reached her eyes. Robb bristled slightly.

"She is more than pleasing my Lord," his father bowed towards Iona and kissed her knuckles gently, "she is very beautiful. It is an honor to finally meet you Lady Iona." Her smile twitched and she shyly inclined her head, "the pleasure is all mine Lord Stark, thank you for paying me a compliment. You honor me so." Robb had to smile slightly at her voice, it was very gentle and he could tell she was soft-spoken. His father turned his attention back to Lord Rhys.

"Please let me introduce you to my family my Lord," his father stepped out of line and stood next to Lord Rhys's free side, "this is my good lady wife, Catelyn Stark, you might remember her." Lord Rhys bowed as best he could and brought his mother's hand to his lips, placing a lingering kiss on it, "my Lady Stark, it is good to see you once again."

His mother curtsied, "you honor me Lord Rhys, I am glad to see you in good health." Robb wasn't expecting a loud, rapturous laugh from the elderly man, "good health, you are the one that _honors_ me Lady Stark," he paused for a moment before nodding his head towards his daughter, "this is my eldest, Iona." Iona curtsied for his mother and his mother simply inclined her head, "a pleasure." They both spoke at the same time which caused Arya to chuckle. Iona's cheeks brightened to a dull pink as she whispered an apology.

Robb hardly noticed that his father was now introducing him, "this is my eldest, Robb." Robb's eyes snapped forward and he bowed towards Lord Rhys. He heard the lord made an affirming noise from the back of his throat, "strapping young lad, looks strong too." Robb looked over to his father and back to Lord Rhys before sharing a small smile, "thank you my Lord."

"And he has all of his teeth! Aren't you a lucky one Iona?" Iona was staring at Robb and when he caught her eyes, he didn't let it go. Her cheeks began to brighten and Robb offered another smile, but this time it was wider. He bowed deeply and pulled her hand to his lips, glancing up into her eyes as he did so, "my Lady it is a pleasure to meet you." He was glad for once that his mother forced him to shave or else Iona would've felt his scratchy beard against her delicate fingers. She smiled and curtsied when he dropped her hand, "you as well my Lord."

Robb's eyes trained on her smile as she was introduced to his siblings. She seemed less nervous meeting them, which was understandable. Sansa was gazing adoringly at Iona's dress and Robb already knew she found someone new to talk their ear off about embroidery. Arya was different though, she glanced at Iona after they were introduced and wrinkled up her nose. Robb could see her stick her tongue out and Robb could tell Sansa was about ready to push his sister until Iona stuck her tongue at Arya as well before going cross-eyed. Arya snorted and laughed which earned a glare from his mother.

Bran was ever the little gentleman Robb noted. His brother stared up at Iona and placed a kiss on her hand as well, which she giggled at and said her thanks to him; however, his littlest brother was a different story. As Iona was introduced to Rickon, Robb watched as she squatted down so she was level to his eyes and held out her hand for him to shake. Rickon looked at her hand and back to her face before placing his own hand in hers, tentatively. She smiled kindly at him and brought it up to her lips, kissing his knuckles which made Rickon laugh.

"Ladies aren't suppose to kiss boy's hands!" Iona made a shocked face, "they aren't? Well I've made myself seem foolish haven't I?" Rickon laughed again and Robb smiled wide. She stood straight again, taking her father's arm as his father talked silently with Lord Rhys.

For more than a few moments, Robb watched as Iona glanced down at Rickon and waved shyly at him. He waved back slightly as he hid another laugh.

"Well!" His father's voice was booming, "our guests will be shown their quarters and they will be allowed to get comfortable and rest!" People clapped in the crowd, Robb included. Iona leaned towards his father and whispered something to him, whatever it was Iona's father seemed surprised but proud. His father was smiling as she stepped back towards his mother, passing him with a slight glance.

"Lady Stark, I brought gifts from Hemlock Grove with me. I was wondering if I could give them to your children later on after I've unpacked?" Robb was surprised to hear that she brought gifts for his siblings, but tried to not let it show on his face.

"Of course Lady Iona, that is very sweet of you."

Robb watched as Iona's smile twisted down slightly, "you will be my family very soon, these are small compared to the gift you have given me." Robb's eyebrows raised and he found himself looking away. That was high praise, but she looked terribly sad while saying it.

* * *

 _Iona_

A servant was showing Iona and Eleonora to Iona's _temporary_ chambers, ones that she would hold until the wedding. Iona was shaking as the servant led them around the Keep, her hands never stilled at her sides. Eleonora took it upon herself to hook her arm with her lady's and walk somewhat more slowly, "you were very brave my Lady, you did well."

Iona breathed out a shaky breath, "I slipped in the mud while curtsying, I'm sure it didn't go unnoticed."

"Honestly my Lady, I was watching you the entire time and I never saw you slip."

The servant stopped at a large, brown door and unlocked it with a key from a rather large keyring. She pushed the door opened and smiled as she ushering them inside, "these are to be your chambers until the wedding my Lady Iona, I hope they serve you well." Iona had been surprised when she entered the room, it was rather large with a dressing table, a wardrobe, a four-poster bed, and a writing desk; it had its own fireplace as well. There were furs draped around the room and Iona smiled, "they suit me just fine, thank you."

Not long after the servant had shown them Iona's room, her father's men had started bringing in her trunks. In all honestly, she had only brought three since she could get dresses commissioned here she didn't need much. She owned very little and one trunk was the Stark children's gifts. Eleonora wasted no time in hanging up Iona's dresses, especially her wedding dress.

The material on her wedding dress was crinkled slightly, but Iona was sure that Eleonora would press that out in no time at all. The dress was very beautiful and she found it strange that it was her mother that commissioned it for her. It was pure white and the material was soft with lace trimmings. A high collar and billowy sleeves also made of lace. It was beautiful.

While Eleonora hung the dresses, Iona had started to unpack some of her books and set them out on the writing desk. In the midst of unpacking, a knock came at the door and Eleonora stopped to answer it. Iona continued to unpack her writing utensils and parchment, unpacking her embroidery supplies until Eleonora brought in a guest.

The two smallest Stark boys were accompanied by their mother, Lady Catelyn Stark was a vision with red hair and gorgeous eyes - her eldest son looked exactly like her.

"I've brought Bran and Rickon here, they were very excited about the prospect of gifts; I do apologize if we've interrupted you."

"Of course not my Lady Stark!" Iona squeaked which made Rickon giggle, "I'll get the gifts for the two boys out! I think they'll like them, I had it commissioned especially for them." Iona leaned over and dug through the trunk to get the two boxes marked _wolf_. She handed one of the boxes to Bran and one to Rickon, which they opened even before they could sit on the floor. Lady Stark was about to scold them, but Iona just smiled, "I'm glad they are excited for them."

"Momma!" Rickon cried out as he held up with large, wooden wolf that was painted brown, "it's a direwolf!" Bran looked a little less excited until Iona kneeled on the ground and plucked the wolf from his hands.

"Watch."

Iona moved it's mouth and the paws, the tail and Bran looked amazed by that, "it moves?"

"Yes," Iona said proudly, "it is a specialty of our master craftsmen, amazing isn't it?" Bran nodded his head and began to play with the grey wolf, smiling as he made it look like it was walking, "I know it's not much, but I hope you enjoy them."

Bran and Rickon thanked Iona before running out of the room, Bran chasing Rickon with his new toy. Lady Stark called after them, but they were long gone, "I apologize, you'd think they were raised by Wildlings."

Iona chuckled nervously, "they are perfectly well-mannered Lady Stark."

"Please call me Catelyn, I am to be your good lady mother soon." Iona felt tears in her eyes but smiled gleefully, "only if you call me Iona, Catelyn. Since I am to be your good lady daughter soon." Catelyn laughed and embraced her, which shocked Iona, "of course Iona." Catelyn pulled back and smiled down at her.

"Thank you again for the gifts, I'll send up the girls next."

Then Catelyn left, but not before closing the door behind her. Iona felt Eleonora's eyes on her, but she simply ignored her handmaiden and began to unpack the rest of the gifts. Sansa's doll looked beautifully carved and she wore a pretty dress, hopefully Sansa wasn't too old for dolls. If she was, Iona could always embroider something for her.

Arya's throwing daggers were in a velvety pouch with her initials embroidered on it, a pet project that Iona finished in a days time.

Both of the longswords were sharpened and expertly crafted, as well as the dagger. The dagger amazed her the most because it really was shaped as a tooth and the handle was a wolf's mouth, snarling angrily.

She set the gifts on the writing table and when she was pleased with the arrangement there was another knock at the door. Eleonora paused what she was doing yet again and smiled, leading in the two Stark girls.

"I heard you had presents for us!" Arya said, quite chipper. Sansa elbowed her sister in the ribs which made Arya hiss, "Arya manners, you really do act like a boy!" Iona pressed her lips together so her laugh wasn't heard by the arguing sisters, but Sansa turned towards her and curtsied, "our mother told us that you had gifts for us my Lady, we are honored that you thought of us."

"You might not be saying that when you see your gifts, I wasn't sure what to get either of you so I tried my best." Iona handed the white box to Sansa first and ushered her to open it. Iona was relieved when she saw Sansa's eyes widen as she picked up the doll carefully, "she's beautiful!" Sansa ran her fingers over the doll's polished face and hugged it close, "thank you my Lady!"

"The pleasure is all mine Lady Sansa." Sansa squealed and excused herself to go show her mother the beautiful doll. Arya looked upset, "did you get me a doll as well?" Iona was pleased that she hadn't when she saw Arya's darkened face.

"No," Iona said softly and beckoned her closer, "I brought you something much sharper." Arya's face lit up when she saw the swords and the dagger, but her eyes were glued to the velvet bag with her initials embroidered on it. Iona gently placed the bag in her hands and watched as Arya suspiciously untied the bag and peered inside of it.  
Arya bit her bottom lip and looked up, "what - what are these?"

Iona smiled faintly, "throwing daggers, but please don't tell your mother about it. I'm afraid she might murder me with them in my sleep." Arya grinned and pulled one out. The dagger was the size of her palm and blacked with lacquer, the direwolf was engraved with silver. Arya flipped it over in her palm, a single finger running down the handle, "wow, I don't know how to use them though."

"So you can practice! If you have an archery range you could use that, or even in your chambers." Iona clapped her hands together. Arya looked up at Iona with a curious expression, "how did you know I liked swords and archery?"

"Rumors, I only had to guess on, like why they called you the tomboy Stark, but please be careful with them."

Arya flipped it over in her hands again, "I know, knives aren't used to play with... what should I tell my mother if she asks what I got?"

"Oh by the Old Gods," Iona hadn't thought of that, "tell her I got you the bag to hold things in."

"To hold things in? Don't bags usually do that anyway?" Arya teased and Iona tried to smile, but it faltered as she felt embarrassed, "thank you they are beautiful. Can I show you when I make progress?"

Iona nodded her head, "of course you can! I would love that Lady Arya." The young girl's nose wrinkled up, "don't call me Lady Arya, Arya is fine by itself. Can I call you Iona or do I have to say _Lady_ Iona like my mother persists?"

"Iona is fine." She responded, smiling as Arya tied the pouch to the belt around her waist, "thank you again Iona, I'm going to go throw them at my door now!"

Perhaps throwing daggers wasn't the best gift, but it was too late now, "oh Arya?" The girl stilled at the doorframe and looked back, "yeah?"

"When you send up your brother up," Iona was nervous even thinking about seeing her betrothed face to face, "can you send up the Greyjoy ward and uh, your half brother as well?"

"Theon and Jon? Why?" Arya looked at the table and a wicked smile appeared on her lips, "Oh! You are the kindest, normally people do not give gifts to them!" Iona certainly wasn't expecting the little lady to nearly tackle her in a hug, "I like you already! Jon is really nice, you'll love him! And Theon is rude, but sometimes he's quite funny! I'll tell Robb to fetch them!"

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb wanted to pull his own hair out, but smiled and kept his thoughts to himself. He walked beside Jon and Theon, whom was making remarks about Lady Iona. Robb knew of Theon's tendencies to spend time with whores; the Stark's ward preferred the company to whores more than the other Starks. Jon kept silent, but his face skewed up in annoyance; Robb thought that his expression must match his brother's.

"She's got that nervous look in her eye," Theon said, more to himself than anyone else, "like a doe caught in the crosshairs of a bow; bet she's a screamer though. The quietest ones usually are."

" _Theon_ ," Robb hissed as Jon looked about ready to punch Theon, "don't talk about a lady like that!" Jon huffed quietly to himself and Robb watched as his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Robb couldn't blame Jon for feeling that way because sometimes Theon was too much, for even him. Theon grinned wildly and slung an arm around Robb's shoulders, drawing him in close, "fallen in love with your betrothed already? Understandable, she has a pretty face and a nice set of - "

"Theon." Robb stressed again, looking at him with anger burning though his veins. _Love_ , Robb's inner voice spat at Theon. Theon just smiled smugly and raised his hands in mock surrender, "alright loverboy." Robb snarled quietly and gently pushed Theon away from him. Theon looked amused more than anything and just shrugged his shoulders, "I was only speaking my mind of the impression she gives."

Robb could hardly bear to listen to Theon anymore. Yes, Theon was one of his closest friends and confidants, but at the same time Theon was _too_ close to him and knew what buttons to push the most. Robb wanted to grow up to be like his father: honorable and loyal to his family and friends, but had Theon wanted to grow up like that as well? Robb didn't know.

"Robb!" His name echoed on the stone walls, his name drawn out like a curse, but he couldn't help but smile at the little voice that called out for him, "Robb!" Small hands encircled his waist from behind and Robb staggered to gain control of his body, so it wouldn't lurch forward. Arya laughed loudly at her brother staggering, Robb could only guess she was thinking something along the lines of _if I can just bring him down, father and mother would have to approve of sword training._ Robb laughed gleefully along with his sister and patted her hands that tied her to him, "what is it sister?"

Arya dropped her hands and stood before him, circle strafing so she was presented just in front of him with a wide smile on her face, "Lady Iona wishes for you to come to her chambers to collect your present," Robb's smile dropped and he felt a pack of butterflies flutter inside of his stomach, "but she also wishes for Jon and Theon's company as well; she's made presents for them as well!"

Robb watched as Jon's face fell, but his eyes however did not. Theon just smirked, like he was doing beforehand, "so she's requested all of us to go up to her chambers then?" Robb inwardly groaned at Theon's expression, wanted to rub his forehead silly at the innuendo. Thankfully, Arya looked untouched by his words and kept her smile firmly upon her lips, "yes."

"Best not keep the lady waiting, right Robb?" Theon snickered which made Arya's happy expression turn into one of confusion, but she shook her head. Robb had rolled his eyes and hissed, "why yes Theon." Jon looked lost in the conversation, he stood off to the side and looked down at his own boots. He scuffed them in the dirt and followed as Robb started towards Lady Iona's quarters.

The entirety of the walk to Lady Iona's chambers wasn't a quiet one, much to Robb's chagrin. He certainly hadn't said anything too bluntly, but the perversion was still there. As they walked with the quiet muttering of Theon, Robb saw Sansa walking down the corridor with Jeyne Poole at her side. They spoke animatedly and Robb saw that Sansa was holding something close to her chest.

"Sansa, what have you got there?" Robb called out to her as they neared. Jeyne froze and curtsied towards Robb before Sansa giggled, "it was a present from your betrothed." She held it out for him to see and he immediately saw why she was so pleased. It was a doll that was a miniature of herself; the fire like hair to the rouge-tinted lips, even the doll wore an intricate dress.

"I thought you were too old for dolls?" Robb teased and watched as Sansa's cheeks flushed. She brought the doll back to her chest and pouted slightly, "it isn't just any doll, mother said I could practice sewing baby clothes on the doll as well; it has multiple purposes and it is finer than any doll I've had previously, she even moves!"  
Robb was surprised that Sansa had gotten so defensive of the present, but smiled at the kindness behind her words.

"The doll resembles you," Theon called from behind him, "but the real thing is much more beautiful." Robb's shoulders tensed and glared at Theon from the corner's of his eyes. Theon didn't stop smiling nor did his sister stop blushing pure red. Robb coughed and bid a good day to Sansa and her friend before snapping at the two men to follow him.

After speaking to Sansa, Robb found that Theon had gotten quiet; a good and bad thing since it meant he was thinking, which was never good. Robb slowed his feet as they neared Lady Iona's chambers. The first thing he noticed was that two guards stood on either side of the door, one of which he recognized by name and the other he knew as the one that helped Lady Iona down from the carriage. Ser Tern, if Robb's memory served correctly.

When the three men stood in front of them, Ser Tern gave a deep bow and the other man did the same. Robb inclined his head slightly, "my sister has told me that Lady Iona has requested our presence." Ser Tern nodded his head as the other knocked loudly on the door. The tawny girl that had accompanied Lady Iona opened the door and immediately flushed. The two spoke in low voices before she nodded her voice and opened the door all of the way, "please come in my lords, my Lady has gifts she wishes to relinquish."

Ser Tern entered the room first and the other man followed. Robb felt confused for a moment before remembering that this room was Lady Iona's private chambers; they were not married, yet. The thought made Robb's face heated, but he stepped inside as Theon and Jon joined him.

Lady Iona was seated at her writing desk, a book propped between her hands before she looked up. The same bright green eyes stared at him and Robb watched as they widened in shock and then in horror. She stood quickly from her chair, nearly dropping her book, "my Lord Robb," she curtsied before greeting Jon and Theon, "Lord Snow and Lord Greyjoy." He could basically hear Theon's head engorge with ego at the mention that he was a _lord_ while Jon had the propriety to correct her, "I am no lord my Lady."

She looked confused and her eyes searched her handmaiden's. The tawny handmaiden looked confused as well, but shook her head. Lady Iona smiled, a nervous twitch at the corner's signaled to Robb that she was just as nervous as he, "I apologize Jon Snow, I hope I did not offend. I am unused to these customs of whether someone is or isn't a lord," her voice trailed off, "perhaps if father had sent me somewhere when I was younger I would've been able to learn, but those are foolish thoughts! I can assume that little Arya has told you why I asked for you?"

"Yes my Lady, she said that you had an engagement present for Robb." Theon answered for him. Her cheeks turned into a violent shade of red that spread down her neck, Robb's eyes trailed after it but the shade soon disappeared beneath the collar of her dress. She cleared her throat, "of course, but I also brought presents for you and Jon Snow as well." Robb eyed her curiously and wondered if she knew exactly of Theon and Jon's positions and his mind also wandered towards how his mother would react when she learned that she had given them gifts as well. Lady Iona brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear; which curled perfectly behind it, Robb noted. She turned to the side and picked up a small thing wrapped in silver silk. She looked like she was contemplating something as her eyebrows furrowed, but she smiled when she turned towards them.

"I hope this gift serves you well," she stepped towards Jon shyly, "I was unsure of what to get you, but I can assure you that it is well made." Jon tentatively took the object from her hands. Robb watched him carefully unwrapped it and watched his eyebrows shoot up, "my Lady I cannot accept such a gift." He made to return it, but Lady Iona stepped back, "nonsense, you are to be family aren't you? Think of it as a gift and nothing more Jon Snow." Robb watched as Jon completely unwrapped the gift from the silver silk and smiled at what he saw. It was a finely made dagger and sharp, the glint at the point told him so. What he didn't expect was the shape of the dagger itself. The blade was carved like a tooth and the hilt was made to resemble a direwolf with its mouth wide open.  
Jon held the dagger in an enclosed hand and tested the balance, which he was pleasantly surprised to find just right.

"I hope it serves you well Jon Snow, it's made from iron and silver with reenforcement of steel." The curved dagger was hidden beneath the silver cloth once again and Lady Iona could only smile to herself. Robb saw Jon's cheeks become enflamed and his brother nodded his head, "it is a fine gift my Lady, thank you." Lady Iona's smile widened and Robb swore that he saw a twinkle in her eye, "you'll have to get a holder made for it, I apologize for the oversight."

"Nothing of it my Lady, it is beautiful."

Jon stepped back and glanced down at the piece he was given while Lady Iona traced her steps back to the writing table. Robb saw her arms strain with the next gift and saw why; she was trying to lift a longsword. Robb contained a chuckle and as he stepped forward to help her, Ser Tern swept by him and lifted the heavy gift from her. Lady Iona nodded her thanks and smiled at the orange-haired man, "that one is for Lord Greyjoy." This gift was wrapped in black silk and as the gift was placed in Theon's hands he looked surprised, "it is very light." He commented before unwinding the silk from the blade. Theon held it in front of him, flipping it from one side of the hilt to the other. Robb stepped closer to Lady Iona as Theon played with the longsword; he wanted to make sure Theon had complete control over the damn thing.

"The pommel was made to look like a kraken, I hope it is a good enough representation." Theon held the sword up and looked at the pommel, which made Robb thrum with pride; he shook it off however. Theon's fingers slid over the kraken, from the head to the tentacles and smiled, "perfect my Lady."

Ser Tern lifted the last gift and Robb knew it was for him. Ser Tern placed it carefully in Robb's outstretched hands and as Theon had said, it was incredibly light compared to his pure iron longsword. The sword was wrapped in a dark green silk and Robb had to smile, as it was one of Lady Iona's house colors. As Robb went to unwrap his gift, Lady Iona stepped forward. She had an unreadable expression on her face, but her smile was one of nervousness and her cheeks were red. She placed her hands on the silk and began to unwind it from around the blade. She kept the silk placed over her arms and stepped back for Robb to inspect the longsword.

It was a similar blade to Theon's, but Robb's shown more brightly in the light. The blade was a tad longer if Robb had to guess and the pommel was in the shape of a direwolf. The hilt was smooth to the touch and he found it nicely balanced; it was a grand gift, "this is an excellent sword my Lady," Robb complimented, "a testament to Hemlock Grove's ironworks."

Robb watched as Lady Iona's smile disappeared, but reappeared a moment later; however, it didn't reach her eyes. She draped the green silk over his sword and wrapped it, "I hope this sword serves you well my Lord."

Something twisted inside of Robb's abdomen, "Robb."

Lady Iona looked confused, "my Lord?"

"Please call me Robb," he explained as he heard Theon snicker from behind him, "we are to be married soon, we might as well call each other by our first names." The explanation was rushed and Robb cursed himself for it. If Theon hadn't been here, nor Jon, he would've simply left it as _please call me Robb_. The embarrassment made his cheeks heat up, but Lady Iona's cheeks flared up and he couldn't help but smile. Her reddened cheeks contrasted heavily with her green eyes and dark curls, but Robb couldn't help to think it made her that much more beautiful.

 _Loverboy_ rang in the back of Robb's head; Theon's taunting voice echoing and Robb brushed it off as well as the thoughts of Lady Iona.

"Then I must request you call me Iona, my Lor- Robb."

"Of course Iona." Robb stepped forward, his longsword in one hand and with the other he took Iona's hand into his. She looked confused again and Robb couldn't help but chuckle as he placed a kiss against her knuckles, "thank you for the gift Iona."

"Yes, thank you for the gift Lady Iona." Theon added on quickly, already taking a shine to his new sword.

"The beautiful gifts, my Lady." Jon bowed respectfully and placed the silver silken gift on his belt. Lady Iona curtsied when Robb's lips left her hand, "thank you for welcoming me with open arms my lords."

Theon, Jon, and Robb all bowed, "you are thanking us for something that is considered a courtesy Iona, the pleasure is ours." And then they were escorted out by her two guards. Robb glanced back and offered a smile towards his betrothed, one that she steadily returned before inclining her head towards him, "until later Robb," were her final words before the door shut and cut him off from seeing her smiling face.

* * *

 _Iona_

"You did well my Lady," Eleonora said, a slight admiration in her voice, "your betrothed seems very kind and very handsome."

"Eleonora," Iona scolded, but not before a sly smile slid onto her face, "he _is_ quite handsome." Eleonora squealed with something akin to joy, the noise made Iona's ears ring slightly. It was true that the eldest Stark was very handsome, just as the other Starks had been beautiful and handsome as well. Iona would only admit it to herself, but Jon Snow was handsome as well; the dark locks and widened eyes. Even their ward, Theon Greyjoy, had a certain roguish look about him. He had a crooked smile and his hair was shaggy, it curled behind his ears. Iona noticed him glancing towards Eleonora with unsavory looks however, and some even at herself.

Robb Stark, he was a gentleman. He had kind blue eyes and curled, dark auburn hair. He had the gentlest smile as well, one that Iona couldn't help but return. He had a strong jaw and it happened to be clean shaven, but in her mind she couldn't help but wonder what he would look like with a beard. It was quite odd since she was sure that she would hate him at first glance, but it wasn't the case. In fact, she was quite indifferent to him even if his handsome looks swayed her to like him a little more.  
Perhaps that was vain of her to admit, but it was true. She'd be better of hating someone she didn't know and was going to marry if he had been older and less handsome. After all, almost every young lady wanted to marry a handsome, strong lord.

"Even the bastard was handsome," Eleonora said off handedly as she placed one the empty trunks below the writing desk, "all the Stark children are handsome, they are blessed by the Old Gods," her handmaiden paused, "you will have handsome children as well." Iona's stomach dropped. Of course, children. That's all this was about, a strengthening of bonds and the toughest bond that would connect them was a child. Iona's mouth dried considerably. She thought of how they would have to bed on their wedding night and keep trying until she was heavy with child; this thought hadn't occurred to her on the ride over, but now it was all the occupied her thoughts. Iona was told on several occasions by her Septa that she had birthing hips, wide enough to push babes from, and that she was blessed by the Old Gods because of it.

Iona felt light headed and sat down on the chair that was placed in front of the hearth, "yes, I hope to bear him many strong, handsome children." The words escaped her mouth like bile and she felt sickened by it. Her tone didn't go unnoticed by Eleonora, Iona watched as her handmaiden sat gently in front of her with her knees pressed against the fur rug, "it doesn't have to be right away," her voice was soft as she clasped her hands around Iona's, "take it at a pace my Lady, your betrothed will not fight you on this I am certain; he too looked nervous when entering your chambers."

Iona's ears perked up at this, "did he now?"

Eleonora nodded her head, "Very. His face was stoic, but when he smiled I could tell he was nervous. You aren't the only one with nerves my Lady, he hasn't met you either. He doesn't know you, but within the coming week I hope you'll draw closer so you both aren't nervous around each other." The thought that Robb Stark was nervous didn't occur to her either when she was traveling. Iona felt selfish and she knew she had been. Of course they were both nervous, they had never met each other and they were to be wed within the fortnight. She had only hoped that it would be a happy and peaceful marriage and now she had considered that mayhap, she could fall in love with the man.

 **AN: I hope this chapter was up to snuff, it is triple the length of what I usually write in a chapter, but I thought it was deserving of it. At first I thought of separating it into two chapters, but it wouldn't flow as nicely. I also hope that Robb didn't seem out-of-character as I tried to match his personality up to the show/books. There is more drama in coming following the failed assassination attempt on Iona and all shall be revealed! The song that Iona was singing to Travan, her baby brother, was Baby Mine and was popularized by Bette Midler; it is also in the Disney movie _Dumbo._ I should also remind people that this takes place several months prior to the beginning of the show so Jon Arryn has not died yet, nor has the King started out North; I've gotten questions about that.**

 **I also have gotten questions about how this story will be AU other than the fact that Robb is married to Iona and I placed another family that usually isn't in the TV show/books. Simply put, some characters will have a different path than the ones in the books/TV show.**

 **scarlettsoldier: When I had received your review I was currently writing Robb's POV and thought that perhaps I should add a few more Robb POVS, I hope you liked them! Also, thank you for your compliments again, they mean the world to me! Eleonora and Ser Byron's relationship will evolve, happy or sad, and I'm glad you like them! (I adore the two and writing them, so I'm glad people like them as well!) I wrote as fast as I could to update it! Hope you've enjoyed it ;)**

 **jafcbutterfly: I was excited to write that part and I hope it lived up to your expectations! :-)**

 **Please review, follow, or favorite! Whenever I receive a notification about any of these things it makes me very happy and more willing to write a chapter! Thanks once again and I'll see you in the next chapter xx**


	4. Four: The Feast of Daggers

**Of Hemlock and Wolves  
** _SyntheticProduct_

* * *

Longer Summary: People often forget that Hemlock is not just pretty and dainty, a small flower that is pleasing to the eye; it is poisonous, but when you plant them in abundance, it's deadly. Hemlock Grove got it's name for the deadly accuracy of their bowmen, for their trained warriors, but also known because they were almost neutral in every war. Natives of Hemlock Grove would say that it was as simple as they wanted peace, but others called them out on selfishness; berated them for it. Besides their ferocious talents, there was also a softer side to the town; they were simple lumberers and miners, crafting things from what they gathered and sold them as specialties. The Rhys family controlled Hemlock Grove, they have for more than a millennia since it was built with their own hands. From generation to generation, the land and it's keep (Bolete Keep) was passed down and handled accordingly, but now that Willard Rhys has his hands on it he plans to gain more and more for his family, even going as far as going into battle against House Targaryen. Now was the time of peace, but there is much more power to be gained. Especially through marriages of convenience.  
Robb/Iona; Theon/Sansa; Jon/Gretchen (another OC)

* * *

Chapter Four: **The Feast of Daggers**

* * *

Iona felt her worries simply melt away, even if it was for a moment. The hot water made her pale skin pink, but it soothed her at the same time. She curled her toes into the metal tub and let the water flow between her parted fingers; dampening the ends of her hair and sinking into her skin. She was comforted by the warm rose-water, the familiar smell made her eyes droop in exhaustion.

"My Lady, let me wash your hair," Eleonora said soft and Iona only nodded before sinking down into the tub and wetting her hair, "thank you my Lady." Eleonora's fingers massaged Iona's scalp with sweet scented oils, something that smelt like wood and sweet scented flowers. Iona relaxed against the curve of the tub and sighed in contentedness. Eleonora massaged the oils in for a time, humming something softly in the back of her throat before filling up a pitcher of the warm water and pouring it over Iona's hair. Her breathing picked up slightly as water ran over her face, the sweet scented oil cascaded down her neck and over her breasts. She gladly relaxed into the tub as Eleonora's fingers left her skin, "my Lady you shouldn't soak for too long, there is to be a feast tonight and I must get you ready." Iona waved her hand dismissively before sitting up to scrub her body with another oil that Eleonora set out for her. This one smelt of clean linen and therefore it wasn't too potent. When Iona was finished, she stood in the tub as Eleonora wrapped a robe around her. Iona stepped out carefully and Eleonora helped Iona wrap a dry towel in her hair.

Iona sat down at the dressing table as Eleonora excused herself to retrieve servants to take down the tub. As Iona waited, she dried her hair with the towel; scrubbing it down and brushing it through with her fingers. Her robe clung to her skin since it was made of green silk and Iona couldn't help but tie it tighter around her waist when the servants began to come in. Eleonora instructed them to take it down so Iona could get ready for the feast.

One after another, servants filled buckets with the water and threw it out the window. The cool air made Iona's wet skin prickle, but she could breath easier. When Iona finished drying her hair, she picked up her brush and began to comb through her tangled locks. She watched carefully as the servants tossed the water out the window, watching as their eyes seemingly trained on her. They were curious, is what she brushed it off as; curious as to whom their Lordling was marrying, it had made sense in her mind.

After only a few minutes, the servants were done while Ser Byron and Ser Tern helped carry down the heavy, metal tub.

"My Lady, it is my duty to dry and brush through your hair," Eleonora said quietly as she watched Iona comb through the mess of dark curls, "I am sorry I was not quick enough."

Iona scoffed, "you were busy Eleonora, you cannot be in two places at once. Besides," Iona put down the brush and turned slightly to see Eleonora's down-trotten face, "I cannot reach the back, perhaps you will be willing to help me with that." Eleonora perked up slightly and smiled shyly, "yes my Lady." Iona turned back around, her reflection looked back at her and Iona saw that her head injury was healing nicely but a red scar still remained. She touched it tentatively as Eleonora brushed her hair. She hissed as it burnt on contact and retreated her hand to her lap. Eleonora brushed over the scar gently, "it will be hardly noticeable when it heals properly, hopefully in time for your wedding my Lady." Iona nodded her head in agreement and sat in silence while Eleonora finished brushing through her hair.

"Finished my Lady," Eleonora proclaimed, "do you wish for me to braid it?" Iona reached up and fingered the damp strands, "no, I think leaving it down will suit me just fine."

"Of course my Lady." Eleonora responded before brushing through it once again. As her hair dried, the curls became similar to loose ringlets that framed her face softly. Iona applied a bit of lotion to her face, rubbing it in as Eleonora sorted through her dresses. Eleonora pulled forth a dark grey dress with a lace petticoat, "will this do my Lady?" Iona glanced over and looked over the dress. It was simple, but to compensate for that fact it had a plunging neckline that would offer ample cleavage. Her father had stopped by just before Iona had taken a bath and made her aware that she needed to look like _appetizing_ for Lord Robb. Iona could already feel the heat rise to her cheeks and she wasn't even in the dress yet, "yes, and please get the white corset to go with it as well. I will wear the black flats with them as well."

While Eleonora found all that Iona required, she slipped off the silken robe. Eleonora hurried over to help Iona put on her corset and tied it tighter than it was on the previous days; Iona had hoped that it would push her breasts up a tad more. She slipped on her undergarments just after and the lace petticoat followed not too soon after. Afterwards, the dress was the easiest thing to put on and as Eleonora tied up the back of the dress, Iona leaned against the dressing table. Her hands were flat on the wooden surface as Eleonora yanked slightly at the ribbon that tied it together; Iona would be lucky if she didn't pass out during the feast.

"There we are my Lady, do you wish to wear any jewelry?" Eleonora's hands left Iona's back and she quickly began to pick through the jewelry that Iona had brought with her. Nothing stuck her fancy, all of the jewels that Iona had seemed too gaudy to wear with such a simple dress, "no, I think that I look put together well enough." Iona said nervously, her tongue darting out to draw in her bottom lip. She chewed on her bottom lip as she stared at herself in the seeing glass. She had left her face plain as the day she was born, with the exception of the lotion she applied to her dry skin. She didn't need coal to outline her eyes since her thick lashes did the job well enough. Iona had detested wearing anything on her lips, instead she applied a balm that made her lips appear glossy.

Eleonora was dressed in a navy blue dress with long, narrow sleeves. It had intricate designs of circles on the bodice that trailed down the sleeves and ended just before the wrist. She wore a cream colored ribbon around her waist and it was tied neatly like a bow at the small of her back. Her hair was pinned up into a braid that twisted around in a bun with tendrils of hair that framed her face. She wore no jewelry, but her lips were once again painted a rouge.  
Iona insisted that if she was dressing up that Eleonora had to do the same. The difference between Eleonora's dress and her own was the fact that Eleonora had a high-collared dress on that was trimmed with lace, something that was considered fine dressing in Hemlock Grove.

"You look a vision my Lady," Eleonora stood directly behind Iona and swept a piece of hair from in front of her face, "I do believe that Lord Robb will be pleasantly surprised." Iona glared at her handmaiden, who offered only a smile to Iona. Iona cleared her throat and placed her hands on her stomach before turning to the side, "will my father approve?"

Eleonora's eye brows pulled together as her lips dropped into a frown, "my Lady, you are not dressing for your father."

Iona could only sigh, "but I am. He told me to wear something appetizing for Lord Robb to look at. _Accentuate my assets_ , is what I believe is actual words were." Iona pulled her bodice up slightly, feeling terribly uncomfortable in such a form fitting gown. Her hands shook slightly at her sides, "this gown is terribly uncomfortable." It was a mere murmur, but Eleonora had heard it.

"If it pleases my Lady I could get another - "

"Absolutely not. While my father is still here, he owns me. I listen to his commands without fault." Iona's words struck Eleonora oddly, "he does not own you my Lady, he is your father."

"He owns me Eleonora, he decides my fate and decides what he deems acceptable for me. There is no other word for it."

"But my Lady - "

A sudden knock at the door made the words on Eleonora's tongue die without a second thought. Iona turned away from the seeing glass and only nodded her head. Eleonora walked to the door briskly, her feet tapping on the stone floor before she swung the door open. Robb Stark stood on the other side with something of an anxious expression on his face, "I was told I would be escorting Lady Iona down to the feast." His words were strung together perfectly and Eleonora tossed a glance back at her lady, only to nod, "of course my Lord, I shall retrieve my Lady." Eleonora left the door open and whispered to Iona what was going on; she didn't miss the tremor in Iona's lips.  
Iona inclined her head softly before walking towards the door where Robb awaited.

"Good eve Robb," Iona said with a small smile, "I've heard that you are to escort me to the feast then?" Robb nodded somewhat slowly as he took her figure in. Iona shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, but when she saw his gentle smile she couldn't help but return it; it was somewhat infectious.

Robb cleared his throat before offering his arm to her, which she gladly laced her own in, "you've heard correctly Iona. Your father said his foot wasn't feeling well enough to walk up the stairs to retrieve you and asked me to escort you down." Iona knew that her father had lied. While his foot had bothered him a great deal, he would never admit to not being able to do something because of it. She said nothing, but offer a smile that she hoped wasn't faltering.

"Thank you for fetching me in my father's stead," Iona mused, "I'm sure he is grateful, just like I am." While they walked down the corridor, away from her chambers, Eleonora and Ser Byron walked slowly behind them. Escorts, so that Robb and Iona were never truly alone until they were married. Iona felt the entire thing silly, but she supposed that they were making sure that they weren't doing anything perverse.

"You look," Robb said, startling Iona from her thoughts, "you look beautiful this eve, Iona." His bright blues were staring into her green ones and Iona couldn't help but look down at her feet, "thank you Robb, you are looking very handsome as well. Grey brings out your eyes even more."

"As does it to your green ones." Robb responded slowly. When Iona looked up, he was still staring straight at her. She offered him a smile and drew him somewhat closer as they descended down the steps; wouldn't that be a brilliant impression if she fell down the steps? Thankfully, they didn't have any accidents on the way down them. Robb simply held onto her arm a little tighter and she brought herself in a little closer; there was something intimate about it all that made Iona want to separate their arms, but she breathed in deeply and didn't. They walked in almost complete silence to the dinning hall, where two men opened the doors for them. Iona had little time to even appreciate the courtyard before Robb led her into the hall. She was greeted with loud chattering and the smell of wine, or was it ale? There were many tables that were filled with people and she couldn't help but smile. It was lovely to see that everyone in Winterfell knew each other and even ate with each other. She could not say the same about her parents and all of Hemlock Grove. The Rhys's dined quietly together with only a few servants waiting on them, sometimes Septa Petra dined with them when she was younger.  
But here. Here, everyone laughed and drank, shared stories and sipped wine. It was relatively hotter in the hall as well, there was a roaring fire at the other end of the hall and all the bodies in the room made it almost combust with heat.

Robb led her to her seat, a table that was propped up higher than the rest of the tables. He smoothly pulled the chair out for her and pushed her in as well, "thank you Robb." He smiled kindly, "think nothing of it Iona." Iona noticed rather quickly that Robb was sitting next to her and beside him was Catelyn, who looked to be enjoying herself. The little ones were seated on the first table in front of them, playing and eating rather loudly. It calmed Iona's nerves when Arya offered her a wave which she returned.

Iona also noticed that the hall had begun to die down in volume and that's when she noticed that Lord Stark was standing from his chair. Beside him, her father sat with a cheerful smile, "we feast tonight in honor of Lord Rhys and his daughter Lady Iona Rhys who have graced us with their presence," there were loud whoops to be heard around the hall, "we also celebrate the engagement of Lady Iona to my eldest, Robb! Now eat, drink, and be merry!" The hall erupted in loud words of congratulations and suddenly music had began which offered more noise to the restless hall. Iona felt her face flush in embarrassment as more than a few leers were tossed at her by people in the hall.

She was served a plate laden with fruits and meat, greens placed in a bowl to the side. Rose wine poured into her goblet and a napkin was placed in her lap by a servant with brown eyes. She wondered for a moment where Eleonora was, but her search was short lived when she saw her speaking to Ser Byron in hushed voices. Eleonora wore a smile, one that showed her pearly white teeth, and Iona grew to feel quite small again. She lifted her goblet to her lips and sipped down some of the wine, careful to control how much she drank at a time. She picked at her food, eating the sweet fruit, but avoiding the bleeding meat.

What she hadn't seen was Catelyn elbowing Robb softly and then inclining her head towards Iona.

Iona had been too busy watching everyone chat and eat; something that brought a smile to her lips as she drank her wine.

"How do you find Winterfell Iona?" She nearly choked on the wine, but calmed herself and glanced over towards Robb. He was grinning and Iona felt herself become embarrassed; hopefully, he hadn't seen her nearly choke, but he probably did. Iona sipped on her wine once again, to heal her parched throat, "I haven't seen much of Winterfell, but it seems... warm."

"Warm?" Robb laughed as he sipped his wine as well, "that's not something most people say when they come here. It's usually ' _it's bloody cold_ '." Robb mimicked a low-pitched voice, one that made Iona chuckle under her breath.

"Oh, I don't mean the physical feel of it, I meant more that the people here are warm. It reminds me of Hemlock Grove, the townsfolk were always bustling but they were also always smiling. Your family takes good care of everyone here."

Robb looked like he was pondering something for a moment as he sipped his wine, "that makes perfect sense and thank you for the compliment."

The conversation died out and Iona felt glad in one sense. She was nervous enough that people were staring at her and when Robb had spoke to her, she was sure that she would've started stuttering; however, that wasn't the case. The silence between her and Robb shook her a little bit, more than she'd like to admit. She could practically feel her father's gaze burning into her as she requested for her goblet to be refilled. Iona had never been a big drinker, but perhaps she needed a little courage from the wine.

"How is everything tasting, Iona?" The feminine voice drew her from her goblet. Catelyn was staring at her, or through her; Iona couldn't differentiate between the two. Catelyn had this certain gaze to her, like she need all your secrets before she even knew you. Iona swallowed the mouthful of wine that she hadn't realized she had taken, "it is delicious Catelyn, the cook did splendidly." Catelyn's eyes diverted down to the piece of meat that was hardly touched, "do you not like meat?" It was a simple question, but when Iona glanced down at the bleeding piece it made her stomach tighten, "I'm not a fan of blood." Iona didn't elaborate, not that Catelyn asked her to.

"Queasy stomach?"

"Aye," Iona's voice shook, "it might be from the tedious ride over here." It was then she noticed that Robb had disappeared and that's why Catelyn was even talking to her. Iona inconspicuously looked around the room for the auburn haired man, "my son is dancing with my eldest daughter, Sansa." Iona winced, not too inconspicuously if Catelyn had caught her looking around the room. Catelyn nodded her head towards the crowd and Iona looked over to where she was glancing, and indeed the Stark siblings were dancing together. Robb had this look on his face, like he'd rather be anywhere but where he was and it made Iona feel slightly less nervous; it was rather adorable in fact, she chuckled quietly as he twirled his sister around.

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb couldn't help but fall for the doe eyes that Sansa gave him. When the conversation between him and Iona had fallen, Sansa was quick to ask him to dance with her. His mother just nodded her head and muttered something to herself. Now, he was stuck dancing with his sister. The song was fast and their footsteps were even quicker; Sansa was a great dancer and he could match her step for step, but his heart wasn't into it. The way that Iona had trailed off and began indulging in their wine made him feel like he had said something wrong.

When the song had ended, Sansa departed from his grasp and started dancing with someone else. Robb paid no attention because at that moment, someone tapped him on the shoulder. His mother stood just behind him in all her radiant glory, "can a mother dance with her son without looking like a den mother protecting her cubs?" His mother had not lost all her quick tongue and he was all too glad to accept her for a dance. She clasped her hands in his and pulled him into the swing of the slower-paced song, "so how goes talks with Iona?"

Of course his mother was already on a first-name basis with the Rhys girl. Robb had contemplated lying to his mother and telling her everything was okay, but the look in her eye made him think better, "as I'm sure you're aware mother, the conversation that I struck up didn't last long." Robb's own eyes widened when the words left his mouth; a little too spiteful than he actually meant. He didn't want to wait for her reaction, but she just smiled and laughed, "you have to realize that she is nervous about being in a den of wolves, don't you?" His mother was elegant in her moves, twisting her dress up into her hands slightly so that she could move with more grace, "she is anxious, Robb. It was the same when I met your father for the first time, in fact I had gotten sick the night of the feast."

"You? Anxious?" Robb teased as he spun them around, "I can hardly imagine it, mother."

His mother bounced her head, "well, imagine it well then. I almost refused to even go to the feast if it hadn't been for my father, he was very strict in saying so. I cannot imagine that it is much different from Iona." They danced and danced, the silence between them was not unpleasant and it gave Robb time to think. He was right in assuming that he wasn't the only one anxious for this arranged marriage, maybe even dreading it. Iona Rhys was not unpleasant to look at, she was quite beautiful; her face would screw up when she smiled and small lines appeared around her mouth, encapsulating her freckles. It was the fact that he didn't know her, the fact that one of the biggest life choices was made for him. When his father had told him about the marriage, he told Robb that he could easily send another raven explaining that his son simply declined the idea, but Robb honored his father's decision; he knew best after all.  
Robb felt a bit lighter then. Perhaps, Iona felt the same way.

"It looks like you've thought of something," his mother remarked slyly, "why don't you go ask your betrothed for a dance? That's what made me feel accepted by your father oh-so-long-ago." His mother's hands left his and she curtsied while he bowed. He was abandoned by his mother in the middle of people dancing, but he quickly escaped. He found himself walking towards Iona, his eyes firmly placed on her. She was sitting quietly at the head table, her fingers playing with the rim of her goblet as her lips parted. The mere motion made Robb feel his nerves spark beneath his fingers, feeling them twitch as he rounded up the steps towards her. Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way, perhaps love wasn't need right now... Perhaps all they both needed was a sense that they belonged. Robb numbly accepted the fact that more than a dozen eyes were trained on him as he tapped Iona's shoulder. He could feel her jump slightly underneath his fingertips. She offered a small smile, "Robb?" His name was simply a breeze caught in her throat, husky and laden with confusion.

"Would you care for a dance?" The words had not left his mouth in a jumbled confusion, but they echoed in his head. While her cheeks were already red with drink, he saw them deepen as she nodded her head shyly, "I would like that."

Robb pulled her chair back for her as she stood from her chair, taking the grey material of her skirts into her hands as she inclined her head, "you honor me with this request." She was a dutiful lady, but her words were almost hollow. Robb felt a pinch against his cheeks, causing him to share a fake smile with her. He escorted her down to where people were dancing and he noticed that her fingers bit down into his forearm slightly. It didn't hurt him, but it had surprised him. She was nervous, quite nervous if the shaky smile she sent him was true. This time when he smiled, it was much wider and genuine, "I'm glad you'd pleasure us with your presence on the floor Iona." Robb wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her in closely and he prayed she hadn't seen his eyes dart down to where her breasts pressed against his chest. She laughed, not a small giggle or a breathy chuckled, but laughed loudly and it was heard over the music. Her head darted down as soon as it parted her lips, "apologizes."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Robb muttered happily as he pulled her other hand to his, guiding her with the right footsteps of the dance, "did I say something humorous?" She shook her head and Robb began to notice that she was looking everywhere except at _him_. The thought made his chest rumble in a low chuckle, "I hope I don't frighten you then?"

Her head snapped up and her eyes locked with his, "certainly not!" Her voice died down as several questioning eyes peered at them, "you've been only kind to me since my arrival. You do not scare me, I..." Her voice trailed off. Robb nodded his head along with the music, "then you are nervous?"

Her face resembled one of a rabbit caught in a trap, "I, of course not, I mean, no of course not." Robb felt slightly more courageous at the new information as he drew her closer and dropped his head down so it leveled with her ear, "I am nervous as well." He brought his head back up and pretended like he hadn't said anything. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth then closed it a second later. This repeated several times until she smiled, her dimples imprinting on her skin, "thank you."

They danced in silence for another two songs. Robb found Iona to be a wondrous dancer when she wasn't constantly looking down at her feet. They simply stared at each other with smiles on their faces like they had just shared a joke between them. Robb felt his stomach twist in knots when her face would flush, her eyes darting around the room before they landed on his, again.

The spell was undone when Robb felt another hand clasp his shoulder, enveloping her smaller one. Robb dropped his arms and turned around. Willard Rhys was standing just behind him with the biggest grin he had seen on the older man since he arrived early this noon, "may I interrupt and have this dance with my daughter?"

"Of course Lord Rhys," Robb bowed towards Lord Rhys before turning around to bow towards Iona, "thank you for gracing me with your presence, Lady Iona." She looked hurt for a moment, but a smile spread across her lips in another, "thank you as well Lord Robb, you are an amazing dancer." She curtsied before Lord Rhys took over for Robb. He left them there as they began to whisper, Iona's smile simply vanished when her father started to speak. Robb had half a mind to whisk her back into another dance, but thought better of it. Instead, he made his way towards Theon who was making eyes at a serving girl.

Robb stole Theon's tankard and guzzled down at least half of the fowl-tasting piss water, "thirsty are you?" Theon all but slurred. Robb glanced up from the tankard rim and watched as Theon's eyes crinkled with his smile, "done making eyes at your betrothed then?" Robb set the tankard down heavily, "shut up Theon."

* * *

 _Iona_

She had gotten used to dancing with her father and was able to compensate for the fact that he danced with a cane. She simply laid her free hand over the one that clasped the wooden, walking stick and followed his lead. Her eyes drifted over to Robb, who was walking away, "I see that you're making more of an effort now." Her father spoke. Her smile vanished and replaced it was a deep-set frown.

"I'm sorry father - "

He shushed her quietly, "no apologizes, the young Lord could hardly take his eyes off you while you two danced. Lord Stark even commented about it; he started to reminisce about his younger days with his Tully wife." Iona noted that the song had changed, but instead of keeping pace like Robb had done, her father simply danced at his own speed.

"Lady Stark is a wondrous dancer," Iona said softly, "she glides while dancing." Her father snorted as the face placed on her waist squeezed, "something you must work on, don't think I didn't see you step on his feet at least twice."

Iona hung her head in embarrassment, "I apologize."

"It isn't me who you should apologize to girl. Your dancing partner bore the brunt of it all; you're too nervous and fluttery like your mother." Her father's hand squeezed her waist again, but softened after Iona flinched back slightly. They danced in silence for a moment or two before her father spoke again, "Lord Stark and I have made arrangements for your marriage ceremony to happen within the fortnight. He spoke something of getting food prepared and I tried to push it up another week; he'd had none of that, I personally think that he wants you and his son to become closer."

Iona's ears perked up at this as her eyes searched the crowd for Robb. He was drinking with the Greyjoy ward, he even punched him in the shoulder which made the other man wince, "poppycock I say, but we are but guests in his home until you two are bound together," her father stopped dancing and inclined his head slightly, "I'm going to go speak to Lord Stark some more, make yourself comfortable." Her father left with no more words and she stood still in the midst of everyone dancing before pardoning herself to the side of the hall. Iona watched as the room moved with the music and the chattering became louder; it was then that Iona felt her head pounding. She excused herself from the hall and when she went towards the doors, a guard stopped her, "my Lady?" His voice was stern and her eyes flickered up to catch his. She smiled easily, "I'm just going to take a breath of fresh air really quick, the air is stifling in here." The guard nodded his head, "then I insist that I escort you outside then. A Lady shouldn't be by herself."

Iona shivered at his words, her mind reeling from the ambush just a few days ago. She thought for a moment before nodding her head, "that would be lovely, thank you Ser..."

"Ser Reese, my Lady."

"Then I shall ask for you to escort me outside Ser Reese, just for a breath of fresh air. Only a moment I can assure you." She offered him a small smile, one that he returned before opening the doors to the brisk cold. When she entered into the cool air, she knew that the rumors had been true in a way about Winterfell; it was colder than Hemlock Grove and a small flurry of snow was parting on the ground. Iona wondered for a moment whether or not it was snowing in Hemlock Grove as well, but the thought made her mood sour so she brushed it off.

"Are you cold my Lady? Perhaps we should head back inside..." his voice trailed off in the northern air and Iona only shook her head, "another moment if you will." Although gooseflesh had started to appear on her skin, she brushed it off for a time so she could inhale the cold air. Ser Reese placed a man on her shoulder, "I'm truly sorry my Lady."

"Whatever for Ser Reese?"

When she turned, her eyes widened in shock. The young guard had brandished a small dagger that glinted sinisterly in the moonlight. Iona choked back on her breath, "Ser Reese?" She took a small step away from him, fear ebbing into her system as he followed her movements. He looked concerned for a moment, "it'll be but a second my Lady, nothing more. You'll feel little pain."

She thought to scream, but didn't want to anger the man, "if I am to die, then can-can you tell me who has sent you?" The man chuckled, almost sadly if Iona heard correctly, "a man with a sinister smile, my Lady." His hand moved so quickly that Iona had little time to react; she threw herself to the side, crashing into the murky snow as his momentum carried him a little ways away. She scurried to her feet and before she could think, her feet carried her away from him. Her breath was caught in her throat as she lifted her skirts and ran. She didn't know where she was running to and for a short time, she didn't care. Fear tranquilized her as she tripped and crashed into the snow, the wounds on her palms of her hands reopened at the impact.

Her hair was yanked back and for the first time, she let out a wild scream; it stung her throat and made her shake even before he had pressed the dagger to her throat, "I apologize my Lady, I have no qualms with you or your family." She waited as the dagger drew into her skin before yanking her head back, crashing it into something hard. The dagger was pulled back as the man made a yelp of surprised; this was her chance. She felt her knees protest as she scrambled off of the ground, the cold etching into her skin before she took off running again. She screamed for help, her voice nearly catching in her throat when she realized no one would hear her. No one would come because the music and the chattering in the hall was probably blinding them all, silencing her to her death. She was afraid, so deeply and truly that she was going to die. Hot tears streamed down her face as she rounded a corner, the snow had begun to fall harder; it was like the Old Gods were crying with her. The frosted crystals made her skin burn before she felt herself being pulled back. She screamed again, feeling her body fight against the person holding her. More tears, more screams before a dull pain ached her head. Her head was pulled back by her hair once again and she could see the anger on his face, "I thought I'd have to wait until just before the wedding to strike, but it seems you are just to naive for the world my Lady."

His voice was a mere whisper in the wind and she felt the energy edging away from her body, "please, please d-don't do this." A hiccup arose in her throat as she spoke. He looked truly saddened by her begging, but the pressing of the dagger against her throat told her he wasn't listening to her, "they have my family. I have to."

Iona closed her eyes, tightening them as her hands scratching as his forearm, "no! Let me go, I don't want to die!" Pain erupted against her throat which made her cry out again: "please!" Sobbing and crying, her fingers scratched at the skin that his bracers shown, but nothing deterred him. Then all at once, the tightness against her had disappeared and she dropped to the floor like a crumpled doll. She gasped for breath as her hand went to her throat before shakily staring at it when she pulled it away. Smearing in her own blood, her hand was painted a bright red. She clasped her hand back to her throat and curled into a ball, sobbing loudly.

A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder before she screamed again, "no please! Don't kill me!"

"My Lady," the voice was soft but hoarse as they spoke, "my Lady you are safe now." Iona looked up through the blurriness of her tears before leaping up to wrap her arms around her savior's neck. Jon hardly knew what to do with himself with Iona wrapped tightly around his neck, sobbing into it, "my Lady," he tried again as he soothed her, "my Lady I must get my father - "

"No!" She cried out, tightening her hold around him before whispering, "don't leave me with him." Jon's breath caught in his throat at her pleads before gently unwrapping her arms from around his neck. She did so willingly before staring up at him; blood ran down her clavicle and pooled in her cleavage while her eyes pooled with tears, "he's dead my Lady." Iona could barely believe it, but with one glance back she had seen that he had definitely dead. His throat was slashed, blood pooled beneath him and Iona barely recognized that the dagger she had gifted Jon, laying haphazardly in the snow next to the body.

 **AN: AND THERE WE GO. I thought I wouldn't end it on a cliffhanger because I'm not that mean, but don't hold me to that for the later chapters! I hope you've enjoyed because the plot against Iona is only starting to unravel! I bet a lot of you thought Robb would save her, but I have special plans for Jon ;)**

 **Just a quick side note, I will be gone for a week from February 8th until February 16th, tentatively. I'll try to update a few more times until then however! I'll also stick a little note on the end of each chapter following this until I leave so people are reminded (if they even read this!)**

 **Lisa: Thank you! I tried to do just that and explain the feelings of how it must be to be in an arranged marriage, I'm glad you approve! And don't worry about missing out on the publication of Chapter Two because now you have Chapter Four to look forward to reading ;-)**

 **jafcbutterfly: I'm glad it lived up to your expectations as well as everyone else's! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as well and I'll be updating ASAP.**

 **scarlettsoldier: Angsty relationships are fun to read, but so hard to write! It makes me want to cry sometimes when I think about a horrible scenario that I'll eventually write into the story to further it. I am so happy that people are enjoying this story! Especially since it was written half-heartedly at first, but I've come to really love the characters I've created; it's fantastic seeing people fall in love with them too! The assassination plot is just unfolding and I can't wait to see how people react when they find out who's behind it ;)  
I'm glad you approve of Robb's POV, so have some more in this chapter! Robb and Iona are both ridiculously nervous cinnamon rolls, aren't they? I love getting reviews, so I don't mind if a few of them are from you *heart***

 **Reader: Thank you for reading and I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far! Hopefully you'll come back to read some more!**

 **RHatch89: I'm glad you think so! We'll be delving deeper into the intriguing aspects of relationships, wars, and assassination as we go along!**

 **Please review, favorite, or follow this story! Also, please excuse any mistakes in this chapter (or any previous chapters) I'm the only one reading through and looking for mistakes, so sometimes I tend to read over some after reading it three or four times! Thank you all and I hope you to see you in the next chapter! xx**


	5. Five: Respite

**Of Hemlock and Wolves  
** _SyntheticProduct_

* * *

Longer Summary: People often forget that Hemlock is not just pretty and dainty, a small flower that is pleasing to the eye; it is poisonous, but when you plant them in abundance, it's deadly. Hemlock Grove got it's name for the deadly accuracy of their bowmen, for their trained warriors, but also known because they were almost neutral in every war. Natives of Hemlock Grove would say that it was as simple as they wanted peace, but others called them out on selfishness; berated them for it. Besides their ferocious talents, there was also a softer side to the town; they were simple lumberers and miners, crafting things from what they gathered and sold them as specialties. The Rhys family controlled Hemlock Grove, they have for more than a millennia since it was built with their own hands. From generation to generation, the land and it's keep (Bolete Keep) was passed down and handled accordingly, but now that Willard Rhys has his hands on it he plans to gain more and more for his family, even going as far as going into battle against House Targaryen. Now was the time of peace, but there is much more power to be gained. Especially through marriages of convenience.  
Robb/Iona; Theon/Sansa; Jon/Gretchen (another OC)

* * *

Chapter Five: **Respite**

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb placated himself by indulging in some dry wine, the type that makes you crave water after you finish your goblet. After drinking ale with Theon, he had made his way back to his mother's side and found it odd that Iona was not seated beside him. He scoured the hall for a sighting of the dark-haired maiden, but found nothing. So now, he was leaning back in his seat and drinking wine with somewhat of a sour expression on his face.

His nerves were on end however, the result of the wine or his missing betrothed; he had little to no idea.

His mother patted his arm gently, Robb was sure that the entire hall could've seen her doing so, but in the moment he could've cared less, "I saw her step outside earlier," Robb tensed under his mother's hand, "with a guard escorting her of course, Ser Reese if these old eyes can be trusted." His muscles were still tense and he could feel a distinct pull of a cramp in his abdomen from it. He relaxed, barely as his mother's hand left his arm. He could feel her eyes boring into the side of his head and he willed himself to ignore it, but couldn't. Aggravated, he sighed, "yes mother?"

"You needn't worry Robb, she's protected."

Robb wasn't entirely sure if what he was feeling was worried or something else, but he brushed it off. Tonight, he was nothing but confused at least that's what it felt to him. He blamed it on the wine, again. He lifted the goblet to his lips and when he went to drink, he noted that the doors of the hall opened to reveal a haggard looking guard. He was breathing heavily, the cold air offered forth white puffs from his mouth as he made a straight line towards his father. He watched as the guard lowered his head towards not his father's ear, but Lord Rhys's. The way the old man stood, with the redness burning in his cheeks Robb knew that he was upset - no, angry even. The guard lowered himself to his father's ear and his father stood up beside Lord Rhys with an almost apologetic look on his face. They all left with little explanation and Robb felt true concern eat at him.

"I'm sure it's nothing." His mother said quietly as the hall watched them leave; however, Robb was distinctly aware in that moment, that Iona had not returned with the guard.

* * *

 _Iona_

Iona felt terrible, like she had been drawn through the mud by a racing horse. Her heart rapidly beat against her ribcage even though there was no danger, her eyes filled with tears while she pulled Jon's cloak closer to her body. One hand was clasped around the tie of the cloak and the other was pressing a handkerchief against the wound on her neck. Instead of sitting outside in the cold, she was now seated in Lord Stark's study with her father pacing it like a madman, "my daughter was injured when she was under the care of one of _your_ guards, Lord Stark." His voice was so loud that it made Iona's ears ring, an ache drilled through her head. Jon had stayed in the study, a command from Lord Stark himself and now he was anxiously watching what was happening in front of him.

"Do you hear me Lord Stark? A man under your command has injured my daughter!" Her father's voice rose steadily with the passing moments of silence. There was a hurried knock at the door and before anyone could answer, the door had opened and Robb had filed in with an elderly man following behind him. His grey robes and kindly smile made Iona keenly aware that this was their maester. Robb had stopped by the door, his eyes falling on Iona before he carefully walked to her side, "are you alright Iona?" His voice was as quiet as it was soft. When he placed a hand on her shoulder, she shuttered away from him. Iona watched as his face fell and when he went to pull away, she shyly placed her hand over his; she hadn't meant to cause a look of sadness to cross over his face and she didn't want to be the one to put it there. Her fingers tightened around his slightly as her eyes stayed trained on her father.

The maester walked over with tired steps, "let's see this wound shall we, my Lady?" Iona carefully laid her bloodied hand and crumpled handkerchief on her lap before pulling her head back. When the wound was revealed, she could hear Robb hiss, "do you think it will heal properly Maester Luwin?" Iona had wondered the same thing even though she couldn't see it. Maester Luwin poured a small amount of alcohol on a clean rag and dapped it along the flared skin. Iona jerked away and whimpered quietly, it had stung and burned, "I think it'll heal just fine, but there might be a scar left behind." When Maester Luwin pulled the rag away, Iona saw that it was washing away the dried blood and she felt light headed.

"I am deeply alarmed that one of my guards did this to your daughter," Lord Stark finally spoke, his hands were pressed against his forehead as his mouth pulled into a frown, "Ser Reese has been working with our family since he was but ten and three."

"Not good enough," her father's voice was louder than before and even Lord Stark looked slightly alarmed, "my daughter might be scarred for life. This is not acceptable."

Iona gasped slightly as Maester Luwin padded the wound, "father," her voice was hoarse and filled with urgency, "father, I am alive. I am well, it is but a scratch and we have Jon Snow to thank." Jon coughed from behind Iona, and if she had turned she would've seen his frown turn into a small smile, "it was nothing, your life is worth more than mine." The words that Jon spoke made her father perk up. He turned to face Jon with something of a questioning gaze before looking down at his daughter, "you're the bastard aren't you?"

Iona heard Jon breath in deeply, "yes my Lord."

"Then there is nothing for you here, yes?" Iona felt angered by her father's questioning. It was wrong of her father to speak to him like this, even if he hadn't saved her; no one should speak to another human being like they were nothing. Iona went to speak, but Maester Luwin started to smother a thin paste over her throat which made her take in a shuttering breath.

"Yes my Lord." Jon's voice was quieter than before. Her father didn't speak after Jon had answered, but instead turned back to face Lord Stark fully. Her father brought his cane down on the stonework floor, three times as hard as he could muster and Iona was aware of the faint splintering noise after he was finished, "I demand my daughter have a personal guard with her at all times," Iona felt a sigh of relief edge from her sore throat, "Ser Byron and Tern should do well enough, but I also have a request."

Maester Luwin pressed another damp cloth against her throat, one of which she hissed at. He dapped the wound lightly, wiping away any leftover paste from the surrounding area. Iona tried her best to not pull away from his gentle hands and she felt Robb holding her place, with kind hands of course. She offered him what she thought was a small smile to him, one that Robb returned with a slight shakiness in his smile.

"What would this request be?" Lord Stark asked and Iona could've sworn she heard a hint of exasperation in his tone. Her father squared up his shoulders, his back straightened to a line and she could tell he wasn't using his cane as leverage, "I ask for one of your men to also join in my daughter's personal guard." Iona watched carefully as Lord Stark looked confused for only a moment before breathing out silently, "I think that could be arranged. I have many loyal guards that would love the opportunity."

"Not good enough," her father breathed out in his raspy tone that made Iona still, "I have someone in mind for this position."

It seemed like everyone in the room was still, "who, exactly Willard?" Her father's name was foreign, almost too foreign on Lord Stark's tongue. She could see her father bristle at the familiarity, but he relaxed under the glances of those around him. He turned to look directly at Iona for a moment, hobbling slightly as he walked over to her and placed a warm hand on her cheek. His thumb soothed over her cheekbone, as if he was petting a house dog before he pulled back to stare behind her, "Jon Snow would do well, I would think."

"Willard - " Lord Stark seemed as startled as those around Iona. Robb's hand clamped down on her shoulder, nearly painfully but she endured as Maester Luwin offered her a sympathetic smile.

"He saved my daughter's life, I would wish to honor him," her father stepped to her side, just beside Robb as he looked at Jon with unrelenting eyes, "this is the highest honor I would give to a bastard. My daughter's personal guard, one that would stick close to her side and one that has already shown loyalty. Plus, he is of your blood _Eddard_ ," Lord Stark's name was muttered like a curse, "and I know if anything, he is honorable and good."

Lord Stark was quiet for a time, "it is Jon's choice, he is a man and I have no say in whether or not he should say yes or no." His voice was strong and Iona saw in his eyes that he meant what he said. He was staring back at Jon with hardened eyes, although they were kinder than anything she had seen before. His hands were clasped on the edge of his desk, Iona watched as his fingers dug into the soft wood.

"I will offer him an allowance of course," her father continued, acting is if Jon wasn't even in the room; he never addressed him, "an allowance worth of my daughter's personal guard. I will offer land in Hemlock Grove as well, a title if he lives up to being a guard of course. Anything a bastard could wish for, I will give."

Maester Luwin placed a bandaged over Iona's wound, soothing it down with practiced hands before declaring his work finished with a simple nod. Iona turned in her chair slightly, letting Jon's cloak run down and gather in her lap as she looked at Jon. Robb held her hand still and Iona felt the warmth from his hand radiate up into her chest, "Jon, you don't have to say yes," her father scoffed as she spoke, "but I would be honored if you said yes. I will be nothing but kind to you and you will always be here in Winterfell, it is your home and I will not draw you away from it unless you request it." Jon's eyes never met hers, much to her sadness. She wished she could peer into his eyes and see what he was thinking, to soothe any worries he might have. He shifted from one foot to the other before glancing up, not past her but at her.

"I will have to pledge my loyalty to the Rhys family then." His voice sounded uncertain and Iona knew what he was silently asking: _will I have to put your family first before mine?_

"Never, I am to be a Stark and your loyalty has already been pledged by blood." Iona spoke softly. She felt Robb squeeze her hand, almost in reassurance and when she glanced up at him he was smiling lightly, "sleep on it, I'm sure my father can agree that the proposition has been sprung upon you suddenly. I do not wish to stress the issue until it is needed next."

"Spoken like a true Lady," her father mused as he stood next to her, "my daughter is right, Jon Snow when you are ready to answer I will wait. Until the ceremony is when you have, and then I will hear your decision. No later."

"Certainly my Lord, I will not be late with my answer." Jon's voice was low and his eyes finally left Iona's as he stared forth towards Lord Stark.

"Now if all the talk is finished," Maester Luwin interrupted, "I believe the young Lady needs her rest and I will also offer milk of the poppy for the pain once we are in her chambers. Your guards can join us if you are uncomfortable." Iona sat still in her seat as her brain rattled with the situation. Tears threatened to appear in her eyes and that's when she felt her body being helped up from her seat. Robb was pulling her forth, both of his hands encompassing her own before stepping back to allow her room to stand, "I will escort her back to her chambers with her guards and the Maester."

An arm wrapped around her waist and steadied her shaking legs, "I will be beside her at all times, I promise you this Lord Rhys."

"Good man," her father announced, more pleased that anything else by the sudden change, "I will stay here and speak more to Lord Stark then, goodnight my sweet daughter." Iona tried to not her head, but she could feel the shaking rise up into her head and she wasn't sure if he saw that or the nod. He looked like he didn't care.

Robb's arm hardened around her waist and ushered her to move forward. She followed his guide and left the study behind for the frigid air of the North. Both Ser Byron and Tern were standing outside the study at full attention, when Iona appeared along with Maester Luwin and Robb they walked to her side.

"Are you alright to walk my Lady?" Ser Byron asked, his eyebrows were pushed together and a frown tugged at his lips, "if not, I can carry you."

"That'd be improper Ser Byron," Iona replied tiredly, "but thank you for the offer, trust me when I say it sounds pleasing right now." She offered a weak laugh, but it did more harm than good as his frown deepened. He only nodded and returned to his station on one side of her as Ser Tern took the other. Robb took the lead, his hand rubbed circles against her ribcage which sent butterflies to her stomach as they walked. No one said a word as they walked, the pace was slow and she silently thanked the Old Gods and Robb for setting this pace. Her feet felt like jelly against the stonework path and her knees begged to collapse under her weight, but Robb steadily held her in place.

They walked up the steps one by one, she could feel his gaze set on her as they walked up them. When they finally got to her chambers, Ser Byron opened them before ushering Robb and herself into the warmth of them. Eleonora was standing attentively at the foot of her bed and Iona could've sworn that her face paled two tones when she saw them. Eleonora rushed to Iona's side and brushed her hands over the edges of Iona's face, brushing back any loose strands of hair.

"I'm glad to see you my Lady," Eleonora's voice was but a whisper, "I prayed when Ser Byron sent the news to me, I'm terribly glad." Maester Luwin sat down a small decanter and small bowl on her writing desk while Robb helped settle Iona into her sitting chair. When Robb made to move away from her, she grabbed his hand and gently pulled him back to her side. There was no struggle from Robb, in fact he wore a brilliant smile when she held his hand. Iona didn't know whether or not to let go, but she wanted someone beside her - not just anyone, she wanted Robb beside her. It was an odd feeling, she mused, that she would want Robb next to her and holding her hand instead of Eleonora. Eleonora still stood next to her and was petting her hair, soothing it back from the haphazard curls from the Northern wind.

"This will only take a moment my Lady," Maester Luwin spoke softly as he poured the milky-white substance from the decanter and into the small bowl he brought with him, "milk of the poppy only takes a few seconds to run through and you'll feel sleepy for a while after." Ser Byron stood between Maester Luwin and herself with a serious expression painted on his face while he held out his hand.

"Ser Byron?" Eleonora whispered softly before Maester Luwin placed the bowl into his hand with a soft smile, "Byron?" She tried again, this time softly and this made the large brute of a man turn. His face was pulled into a soft smile this time, but it didn't reach his eyes, "testing for poison."

"You think Maester Luwin would poison Iona?" Robb's voice was an angry sigh as his hand tightened around Iona's, "he's been with us for years, why would he have any reason to - "

"Not Maester Luwin, my Lord," Ser Tern interrupted, "if something was spilled into the concoction without Maester Luwin's knowledge. Ser Byron will test only a small portion, do not fret my Lord." Robb brushed his free hand through his auburn curls and only nodded his head, although his frown didn't leave his lips. Ser Byron took the small bowl and placed it to his lips, only taking a small sip as the room watched his Adam's apple bounce as he swallowed. There was a moment of silence, then another until he nodded his head towards Maester Luwin, "it seems genuine."

Maester Luwin nodded his head as well, as if he knew that nothing could've been placed in his potion without him knowing. He walked the few steps to Iona and placed it against her lips, "drink my Lady Rhys." Iona did as she was told, letting the cool concoction run down her throat as she swallowed it in harsh gulps. When the bowl was emptied, he took the bowl from her lips and smiled, "now I suggest a good night's rest and an uninterrupted one at that." Iona only nodded her head as she relaxed into the chair, her feet burnt from the heat of the fire, but she could feel the warmth traveling up from the tips of her toes to her spine. She graciously patted Robb's hand that she still held, "I thank you for your company Robb, but I shall rest now."

Robb shifted on his feet as Maester Luwin was guided out the door, "then I bid you a good rest Iona, I shall visit you in the morn." He raised a hand, but Iona watched as he clenched it into a fist and brought it back to his side. He turned on his heel and followed Maester Luwin out of her chambers. Eleonora quietly took hold of a brush and began to run the bristles through Iona's hair. Neither of the women shared a single word.

* * *

 _Willard_

He paced the study, almost as if the stone were on fire. His cane tapped against the ground and to him, it made an irritatingly annoying sound. Eddard seemed to pay no mind as he simply sat behind his desk; his hands laced underneath his chin as he stared forward. Willard stopped almost completely as he sighed angrily, "I was hoping that this talk could wait until the morn, but this attack seems to have expedited things along," he sat in the chair that was used by his daughter not too long ago, "someone doesn't seem to pleased by our joining of houses."

Eddard nodded his head along as he listened, "when we were ambushed on the road, my daughter was able to knock one of the fiends off of his horse and the beast crushed his legs. We interrogated him for hours and used everything in my power to get him to speak."

"Did he give any information?" Willard casually crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair before shaking his head, "none that would be useful. He spoke of a man that hid his face, threatened their families and gave them a sum of gold," Willard dug into his undershirt before pulling out a leather-bound bag and threw it onto Eddard's desk. It made a clinking noise, the rustling of gold, "two dragons to each of the members that would participate in the ambush. The others that did not want to comply were killed, as an example."

"How many didn't comply?" Eddard's face was drained of color and Willard almost scoffed at the foolhardiness of the Lord. Eddard Stark was a respectable man of increasing years, he had seen and done many horrific things in the name of the King and yet he paled when death was spoken of, "five of them. The man said that his comrades were split open from the belly to the throat or simply had their heads removed from their bodies; excellent display of swordsmanship, I believe this piece of shit called it." Willard almost wanted to grin, but held it back as Eddard sighed heavily.

"Did he give anything else up? See anything unusual?"

Willard had to think a moment. He brushed his hand through the wiry whiskers of his beard and glanced at nothing in-particular. If he was to be honest, he was more keen on the sounds of the man's pained yells as he began to break each of his fingers before asking another question. The man cried out for his mother, he did remember that. Then, in the recess of his mind, he remembered something he cried out before he passed out for the first time.

"Ah, he said that the man had an evil smile. Said that whoever paid them took great pleasure in killing his comrades."

"This sounds like a man I wouldn't want to know," Eddard commented quietly, "even so, those aren't very descriptive. People can truly hide their true selves easily with false words or sweet smiles."

Willard coughed as soon as silence began to overcome the room, "have you ever thought that perhaps you already know this person Lord Stark? Perhaps, he is a friend with eyes and ears in your keep."

Eddard's face went stony at the accusation, "what are you saying?"

Willard shrugged his shoulders, a faint popping noise could be heard from the motion, "only something that could possibly ring true Lord Stark, I'd watch my back if I were you..." Willard trailed off as he looked at the custom artwork lining the room, "if another attack happens on my daughter again, I say we capture the piss-head and interrogate him further. Your bastard killed your _loyal_ guard off too fast; I guess if nothing else the bastard is proficient in killing."

* * *

 _Iona_

Eleonora helped Iona slip into her nightgown, carefully avoiding the bandage on her neck. Usually Iona would have preferred a high-necked gown made of soft material, but on this night she opted for a gown that hung off her shoulders, avoiding her neck entirely, and cinched around her waist in a belted style. Loose and billowy, it made the perfect nightgown to relax in with little worries of it aggravating the wound further. As Eleonora helped Iona into bed, she carefully tucked the blankets around her and sat down next to her on the bed, "do you need anything my Lady?"

Iona brought the blankets up to the tip of her nose and glanced up at Eleonora, "would you fetch me some cool water? My throat is parched." Eleonora nearly jumped up from the bed with a muffled reply of: "of course my Lady," as she left the room. It was eerily quiet now, the only noise was the crackling of fire and the howling of the wind against her window. She tried to extinguish her terrible thoughts by bringing the blankets over her head and curling into a ball. Nothing seemed to work, and soon Iona was crying. She kept her lips sealed since either Ser Tern or Ser Byron was watching outside her door, she couldn't let them hear her. She cried out in her mind, she cried that life wasn't fair and that she hadn't asked for this. She cried silently, but hiccups erupted in her throat and her chest tightened. She wanted nothing more than to run away, far away from this.

Selfish thoughts for a selfish person, she thought.

When the door opened, she wiped away the tears and peaked out from over her blankets. Eleonora had returned, slightly red faced but with two goblets and a decanter of what looked to be wine. Iona stared at her, puzzled. Eleonora only smiled and shut the door behind her before placing the decanter and goblets on the writing desk. She filled one to the brim and the other only half way, but the aroma was sweet and subtle.

She passed the full goblet to Iona, who took it happily. Eleonora sat down on Iona's bed, crossing her legs and soothing out her dress before raising the goblet, "to the strongest woman I've ever known." She didn't explain who it was, perhaps she wanted Iona to think of her own woman to drink to. She thought briefly before raising her goblet as well, "to the best friend I've ever had." Eleonora's cheeks turned into an apple red before she sipped her wine. Iona didn't pace it, instead she gulped the wine with mouthfuls.

Eleonora chuckled, "my Lady, I know you can handle your liquor well, but perhaps you should slow down. I wish for this night to be a long one."

Iona had wondered if she had seemed sad and that's why Eleonora was drinking with her. She wondered if, perhaps she had heard her crying or if one of the guards reported it; the thought made her cheeks burn. Iona sipped her wine this time, glancing over the rim at her friend before smiling plainly.

"Do you remember the first time we ever drank together?" Eleonora said quietly, acting as if they were going to be caught, "you brought the fine bottle of Dornish wine to your room and we drank the entire bottle ourselves? We couldn't have been more than one and three."

"I don't remember much of that night." Iona said thoughtfully.

"I don't either."

As if a joke were said, both of the women burst into laughter.

Iona remembered the night somewhat. She remembered that, that was the night that Eleonora declared her love for Ser Byron. Of course, it wasn't to him but Eleonora's pillow and she hugged the blasted thing so tightly she made the feather pillow rip at the seams.

She remembered that Eleonora complained of her distaste of cheese, something that Iona didn't even know about until then. She also complained that her hands were cracking from the cold and the next day Iona went out to buy some hand lotion for her handmaiden. Eleonora was none the wiser, only thanking Iona for being caring.

"Do you remember your first crush?" Eleonora asked, her eyebrows wiggled slightly and Iona could only stifle back a laugh, "do you mean Jack the assistant-horse handler?" Eleonora smiled widely and placed a hand on Iona's shoulder, "you were so sure that he was the one. With his dark hair and bright eyes, I am sure he was infatuated with you as well."

"Yeah, until my father sent him away you mean!" Iona cried out and laughed afterwards.

The wine poured freely between the two girls as they spoke of many things. They cherished their shared memories and laughed at all the things that almost came between them, "like that one guard - what was his name? Kiran? Lean muscle and a wicked smile, your mother scolded me for weeks after I dumped that water onto you!" They talked about their past, the memories that they hadn't shared and they spoke of their families.

"My mother, by the Old Gods, she was beautiful you know?" Eleonora sighed happily as she laid back on Iona's bed, her thrice emptied goblet sat on the night table, "she had hair like mine, but her eyes were this murky-green color. My Da' always called them swamp eyes. Mother hated that, said it made her sound like some sort of witch. Da' always said the same thing when she said that, that she must've been a witch because he was under her spell!" Eleonora cackled quietly before growing silent, "that was before they died, they seemed so happy you know. I miss them."

Iona drew Eleonora into a hug. Eleonora sobbed quietly into Iona's chest, her hands grasped at her Lady's shoulders, "sometimes I dream of them, they're so real and it's wicked. Why would the Old Gods punish me like this?"

Iona soothed Eleonora, her hand softly running circles over her shoulder blades, "they aren't punishing you," Iona was quiet as she spoke, "they are granting you images of them, so you remember them. It isn't a punishment, but a gift."

Iona was met with silence and when she listened closely, Iona could tell that Eleonora had fallen asleep in her embrace. Quite comical, Iona thought, since Eleonora hardly ever went to sleep before her; however, she laid Eleonora down on the bed and slipped her under the covers as gracefully as she could. She'd blame herself if Eleonora caught a cold and Iona slipped under the blankets with her friend. She was quite sleepy, from the milk of the poppy to the wine and she knew as soon as she shut her eyes that she would fall into sleep. She fought it for a while, not wanting to sleep because she knew nightmares would chase her, but there wasn't much of a fight as her eyes flickered close.

 **AN: I hate writing filler chapters, I find them tedious to write and I get writer's block halfway through them. I'm sorry for the delay as well, I got the dates mixed up and I actually left sooner and got back sooner, but a cold had me sick in bed for a while :(**

 **I hope everything seems up to snuff, I really tried with this chapter and I re-wrote it many times! A pain in the ass if you ask me, but it was needed and I tried to expound upon Eleonora - more of her past shall be revealed as time goes on as well. The assassination will come to fruition in later chapters, but if you have any guesses on who is behind these attacks you can certainly put it in the reviews! I'd love to see who everyone thinks is the piss-head (Willard's words, not mine!) is!**

 **RHatch89: Thank you for your kind words and for reviewing!**

 **jafcbutterfly: Let's just say that there is a lot more going on within the Rhys family than most know about! Plus, it's the Game of Thrones, assassinations is everyone's forte! ;)**

 **scarlettsoldier: Suspense is always good when you're reading, makes you want to read more and makes you want to shout at the author when they haven't updated yet! Haha. I'm so very glad that you're enjoying this story, I'm enjoying writing it (except filler chapters, ugh). You're a sweetheart, thank you for your kind words! Seriously, it makes me smile whenever I get a review from you :) I have all the credit I could receive right now, but I do hope others come to enjoy this story as well!**

 **Becka3490: Thank you for reviewing and favouriting! That's amazingly sweet of you! I hope you've enjoyed this update! More action is coming very soon ;)**


	6. Six: Tour Within Walls

**Of Hemlock and Wolves  
** _SyntheticProduct_

* * *

Longer Summary: People often forget that Hemlock is not just pretty and dainty, a small flower that is pleasing to the eye; it is poisonous, but when you plant them in abundance, it's deadly. Hemlock Grove got it's name for the deadly accuracy of their bowmen, for their trained warriors, but also known because they were almost neutral in every war. Natives of Hemlock Grove would say that it was as simple as they wanted peace, but others called them out on selfishness; berated them for it. Besides their ferocious talents, there was also a softer side to the town; they were simple lumberers and miners, crafting things from what they gathered and sold them as specialties. The Rhys family controlled Hemlock Grove, they have for more than a millennia since it was built with their own hands. From generation to generation, the land and it's keep (Bolete Keep) was passed down and handled accordingly, but now that Willard Rhys has his hands on it he plans to gain more and more for his family, even going as far as going into battle against House Targaryen. Now was the time of peace, but there is much more power to be gained. Especially through marriages of convenience.  
Robb/Iona; Theon/Sansa; Jon/Gretchen (another OC)

* * *

Chapter Six: **Tour Within Walls**

* * *

The morning sun came too fast, too brilliantly as it streamed through the open window. The warmth was welcome, but the light was not. Iona groaned as she turned away from it, sighing contently when warmth spilt up her back. This did not last long however, the sun rose and rose until there was no hiding from it. Iona startled awake with a pounding headache and a thrumming ache in her throat. She sat up in bed and pressed a hand to her throat, gingerly her fingers tapped the wound and she flinched back when pain resonated through her body. Soft snores from Eleonora let Iona know that her handmaiden wasn't waking until later, and she'd probably have a worse headache than she. Eleonora had never been a drinker, a half-goblet of wine was the most she'd drink socially and if she ever drank more it was quite a scene the next day.

As quietly as she could, Iona rose from her bed to retrieve her dressing robe and tied it around her waist. She paced the room for a while before setting her hands on the empty decanter and wine painted goblets. As carefully as she could she opened the door and greeted Ser Tern, "Ser Tern, might I ask you a favor?" The lean-muscled guard turned to Iona with a carefully placed smile, "of course my Lady."  
Iona held the goblets and decanter over to him, "I know it isn't your duty to do so, but could you give these to a servant and have them come to my room?" Ser Tern carefully took the empty pieces before nodding ever so slightly.

"When Ser Byron comes to take over my spot, I'll do this before retiring. Might I inquire why Eleonora can't do this?" Iona smiled to herself and peered back into her room before answering, "she isn't feeling well this morn so I told her to sleep for a while longer." Ser Tern nodded his head slowly and Iona swore she saw a shadow of a smile grace his lips, a more genuine and kind one, "does it have anything to do with this empty decanter?"

Iona scoffed, "of course not," although she gave him a secretive grin, "I would never drink so much wine by myself."

"I never said you drank it by yourself my Lady," Ser Tern chuckled lowly, "but alas, I know I won't get an answer from you. Perhaps I'll pester Eleonora when she stirs from her slumber."

Iona didn't even have to think of a response to tell him, because she knew it was a bad idea to do exactly what he said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, the last person to bother Eleonora when she was sick was pale for days and even went as far as to avoid my sly handmaiden," Iona didn't wait for his reply, "but thank you for taking care of this for me. Good morn, Ser Tern."

"Good morn my Lady Iona."

Iona closed the door carefully, as not to make too much noise, before turning to her dressing table. She brushed through her hair, several times over to get the knots out that formed from at the base of her scalp. Her eyes were ever downcast to the bandage on her throat, overnight it had turned the white-cotton a pale pink and Iona had shuttered to think that it was blood seeping through it. Every time she swallowed she was greeted with a sharp pain, and she knew that she would not forget the incident soon, perhaps she'd never forget. A chill ran through her at the thought, she didn't want to have bad memories within the walls of Winterfell, but it seemed that's all she was to receive right now.

A quiet knock broke her from her thoughts and she carefully set down the brush before answering it. A petite servant stood on the other side, with the ever intimidating Ser Byron by her side, "good morn my Lady, your guard alerted me that you needed services?" She could feel the servants eyes baring down on the bandage that wrapped her neck, so as quickly as she could Iona closed her dressing robe up to her neck with a simple clasp of her hand. The servant's eyes averted down to her shoes.

"Yes, I require a basin of rosewater and a decanter of cool, drinking water with two cups."

"Of course my Lady, right away my Lady." The servant curtsied low to the ground and Iona was worried that the poor thing scrapped her knees. Before she could ask if she was alright, the servant was scampering away. Iona huffed lightly, "am I that scary?" It was meant to be a thought, but her lips whispered the question before she could stop them. Ser Byron chuckled, "no my Lady, I'm sure she was just awed by your morning beauty." Iona narrowed her eyes at her guard and guffawed, more to herself.

Ser Byron seemed to be in a better mood this morn, but his eyes were just as tired as they were the day before, "thank you for the compliment Ser Byron, please let the young lady in when she arrives. I'm sure she'll have her hands full." Iona closed the door quietly after. She wanted to disappear into thin air right then and there; everyone was going to be staring at her bandage, it couldn't be helped. It was embarrassing either way, to know that people saw she was marked - would this make her less wanted? That thought startled her, she shouldn't be concerned whether she was wanted or not. She didn't want to get married, why should this concern her?

She had confused herself with too much thought.

Shaking her head, Iona walked carefully over to her writing desk; avoiding any sudden movements or sounds that would wake Eleonora from her deep sleep. She sat in the chair, which wasn't too comfortable, and opened one of her favorite books; it was a fictitious story about a peasant family helping a kingdom through famine and their reward was the slaughter of their youngest children. An emotional tale, one that ended with the farmer taking his own life because he couldn't live with the guilt over what happened. It was much more intricate than simple words could describe. There was intrigue and raw emotion that poured from each page; however, the copy she received wasn't completed. No, she had bought the book from a traveling merchant only to find out that the last chapter was _completely_ ripped out. In her frustration, she imagined different endings to the book - sad, or happy - but nothing she wrote or thought could give her the satisfaction like reading the author's own words. She had tried and failed to find an original copy, the author's name was nearly erased from the pages; only a simple smudge and the unintelligible group of letters: _MATUS_ , whatever that could've meant.

Reading only filled her mind for a short time, but it was long enough for the servant to arrive with that she had asked for. Ser Byron had knocked quietly and excused himself before opening the door for the petite girl. She hurried in, careful that her eyes didn't meet Iona's, and placed the things she had asked for on the writing desk before excusing herself out the door again.

"Is Eleonora sick?" Ser Byron questioned softly. Iona noticed his eyes drifting over her sleeping form, albeit covered by animal furs and blankets, "no, just tired, but I must say that it is inappropriate for a man to gaze upon a woman sleeping, especially without her knowledge." The words were sharper than she had meant it, but the slight pounding in her head did no justice for her. Ser Byron's cheeks brightened to a rosy red, "excuse me my Lady, I was just inquiring - "

"I know," Iona cut him off as her voice trailed off, "I know and she's alright. Just tired and I thought it would be nice if she could sleep in today, even for a little while." Ser Byron looked relieved by the information and nodded his head before departing from the room. When he closed the door behind him, Iona drew the curtains close before stripping her dressing robe off. She tested the rosewater with a single finger and hummed approvingly when she found it to be lukewarm. She brought the basin over to her dressing table before sitting down in front of her seeing glass. She cupped her water in her hands before bringing it to her fact. It was a welcomed feeling of the warm water rolling down her face and neck, pooling in the valley of her breasts and along her shoulders. For the moment, she hadn't cared if she got soaked through by doing this - it felt good. Tentatively, she peeled the bandage off of her neck and hissed at the appearance of the ragged, long scar. It ran along diagonally from the soft cartilage of her throat and upwards towards her jaw; the only relief was that the higher the cut got, the less ragged it seemed. She washed the cut with gentle hands, careful to avoid the opening of the cut itself; although it had began to clot. The skin around the cut was red and inflamed, swelling the cut up so it felt more like a long lump when her fingers ran along it. She was more glad that it had stopped bleeding so heavily, only a few spots surfaced forth every so often.

Soon, Iona stripped herself of her nightgown and let it pool at her feet when she stood. She dipped a clean rag in the rosewater and ran it over her body, cleaning it from any dirt or grim that stuck to her from the previous night. She brought it around the backside of her neck, shivering as droplets ran down her spine. She let herself dry before fetching her undergarments for the day. Next she pulled out an easy to throw on gown, one that tied along the sides of the gown rather than the back. It was was a fine dress made of heavy material, dyed a creamed-purple color that was heavily embroidered with lace. It had a high collar, one that tied simply with a ribbon at the back of her neck. It was easy enough to tie up herself, and she hoped that the lace wasn't heavy against her throat; there was a light itch when she moved suddenly, but nothing more. She smoothed out the dress before pouring herself, as well as Eleonora, a goblet of cool water from the crystal-like decanter. She sipped it as she sat in the darkened room, glancing over at Eleonora every now and again. She was sleeping soundly, snoring occasionally and tossing to her other side.

Iona sat for a while until she emptied her goblet and she traipsed back to her dressing table. She sat and brushed through her hair again before pinning it up in a simple updo before unwinding a few curls to frame her face. Afterwards, she made sure that the curtains were firmly shut before slipping on her flat shoes. She left her room and closed the door quietly behind her.

"My Lady?"

Ser Byron looked confused by her sudden appearance, but smiled softly even so. Iona gave him her best smile and nodded her head slightly, "have the Starks starting breaking their fast?" Ser Byron nodded as he straightened his back, "yes my Lady, I can escort you if you wish."

"No, I'd rather you stand here and make sure Eleonora is safe."

Ser Byron's smile fell, "my Lady, you were the one targeted; not Eleonora."

"And what if they decide to target her to hurt me?" Iona asked skeptically, her eyebrows knitting together as she spoke, "hurting her would bring me more pain than death."

"My Lady - "

Iona held up a single hand, "no, I will not hear any of it. This is a command from your _Lady_ , please listen to it." Ser Byron shifted his weight from one foot to the other before nodding, "yes my Lady."

"I will scream if anything happens, you can trust me on that one."

"My Lady, before you leave, I don't believe the Starks are expecting you this morn neither is your father."

Iona smiled, "that just makes me want to go even more, do not fret my loyal guard; I will be in the hall in little than a few moments."

Silence enclosed them as Ser Byron seemed torn between his two duties.

"I will escort her down to break fast."

Iona was startled by the new voice, so much so that she froze. Ser Byron looked happy at the proposition, "thank you, it'd ease my inner conflict." Iona turned her head slightly, almost hissing as her cut rubbed lazily against the lace. It was Jon Snow, looking quite tired and frowning as Ser Byron talked, "it'd be an honor." His voice was quieter this time and Iona grew embarrassed. He had probably heard her request to stand at her door, Jon Snow had seen a moment of weakness and perhaps naivety on her part.

"My Lady, we should depart before the Starks finish breaking fast." Iona nodded before bidding farewell to Ser Byron and followed Jon's light footfalls. He moved silently through the corridors, more like a shadow than a person. It was fascinating in a way, the way he moved and carried himself. It was like he was waiting for the ground to swallow him whole; hopefully, she didn't look like that as well. She straightened her back and paced herself so she was walking at his side. It was queer that he hadn't taken her arm to escort her, but she figured he felt out of place.

"Did you sleep well, Jon?" She tried to make small talk, but he only have a small grunt in response to her question. Awkward silence engulfed the two and suddenly Iona found the passing stone walls more interesting than anything else. She could hear him sigh heavily as they walked down the steps, "that was a heavy sigh." She commented and watched as he tensed. She should know better than comment on someone's body language when she's trying to get them to talk. He said nothing, yet again. She grew slightly annoyed, she had wanted to become friends with Jon, but he obviously didn't feel the same way. When they parted into the courtyard, Iona looked out over the muddied ground and shivered to think that that's where she was attacked the night previous.

"I'm glad I got there in time." Jon's voice was so quiet she had almost missed the breathy statement, "pardon?" She hoped he would clarify.

He didn't disappoint this time, "I'm glad I was able to get him before... before anything happened. I was concerned when I saw that you weren't moving on the ground, and blood on your hands..." His voice brought back the feeling of the snowflakes landing on her skin in the darkness of the night, melting against her skin as she writhed against the ground, "I heard screams, at first I thought it was Theon with some girl, but the second time I heard it, it was a scream of fear." Iona was quiet as he spoke, "I rushed to find where it was coming from and I saw.. I saw him on top of you, I didn't even realize he had a dagger to your throat until I had torn him off of you. Because of my carelessness, he was able to mark you. I apologize."

"Do not apologize for saving my life Jon Snow," her voice was sharp as her hand fell to her throat, "a price to pay to be alive, it's nothing."

"I...I saw red," he had stopped walking, "I don't know what it was, I had grown up with him but to see him trying to do ... whatever he was trying to do, I saw red. He tried to fight back, but I just...I killed him. I'm a monster, you don't want a monster as a guard." Ah, so he was giving her his answer. Iona shook her head, "you're not a monster Jon," her voice was but a batted breath, "you saved me. You're my hero." She saw that her words affected him, physically. His shoulders slumped and she watched as he looked up towards her. His eyes were glossy and Iona saw the similarities between him and a kicked animal. She drew her hands out, engulfing his much larger ones with her small ones. His eyes widened and he went to withdraw his hands, but she stilled him with a slight pull, "let me hold the hands of my savior." He froze and she squeezed his hands, "thank you."

"No thanks necessary, your life is much more than that."

"So is yours," she said quickly, "thank you." She remembered a courtesy that people in Hemlock Grove shown in thanks and she smiled lightly before drawing his hands to her face. He watched curiously, "I'm bestowing a high honor of the people of Hemlock Grove," her lips pressed against his knuckles and he breathed out sharply, "in my hometown, when someone helps another so greatly that words cannot describe, they bestow a kiss upon the hands that helped them." She pulled back, her eyes shinning from tears, "so thank you."

"My Lady..."

"Do not tell me I needn't to do that, it is in my nature," she joked, "my life is something I wish to keep, but do not think that you're a monster. These hands helped me at my hour of need, thank you. Thank you." She let his hands drop to his side before continuing her walk to the hall, after a few moments she could hear him following her. When they reached the hall, he had opened the doors for her, "thank you." He nodded slightly before closing the doors behind her. She breathed in carefully before walking into the hall fully. She could hear a loud gasp and glanced up to the high table to find Lady Catelyn staring down at her, "we weren't expecting you to join us this morn! How do you feel?" Catelyn stood so quickly that Iona couldn't help but chuckle. Lord Stark was smiling down towards her and she noted that Robb had the same smile on his face as well.

"Thank you for your concern Catelyn, but I'm feeling very refreshed this morn and didn't wish to waste a lovely day stuck up in my chambers." The distinctive snort of her father's laugh broke her smile. He was looking well, his hair finely combed back with grease and a smile stuck in place, "my daughter takes after me it seems. After I lost the better half of my foot, I was walking around the next day. I'd be damned if I was stuck inside my chambers a minute more!"

The hall combusted into light laughter and Catelyn had settled back into her chair as Robb stood from his, pulling back the empty chair to his left and motioning for her to come sit. She walked as elegantly as she could, lifting her skirtings up as she stepped up to the high landing. She caught Sansa eyeing her dress enviously as she stared down at her own, blankly grey one. Iona sat in the chair and let Robb push her in, "you look lovely this morn." His voice was but a whisper as he leaned down to her ear. She could feel her cheeks rushing with color before thanking him.

When he took back his seat, she was surprised to already see a plate of steaming food in front of her. It was piled high with eggs and sausage, grapes and berries on the side, and a glass of cool milk. She supposed that the plate was going to be taken to her room later, but she happily started to eat away at the food. She could feel eyes on her and when she glanced up she noted that Arya was staring at her with a wide grin before she deftly pointed to her lips. Iona licked her lips and felt the bitter juice of grapes on them before nodding her thanks to the smallest Stark girl. Iona didn't even realize how ravished she was until she finished her entire plate, but her stomach egged for more. She asked a servant for more fruit and was presented with almost an entire _bowl_ of it. Embarrassment colored her cheeks as she thanked the servant and she could hear Robb chuckling from beside her, "hungry are you?"

"Winterfell has sweet fruits," Iona said reluctantly, "I guess you can tell what my favorite thing to eat is." Robb laughed, drawing the attentions of nearly everyone in the room. She felt hotter than before as she bit into a red soaked berry. Bitterness filled her mouth, but her palate agreed that it was delicious. She savored the juices as she ate some more afterwards. The more she ate the red berries, the more she realized they weren't bitter but tart.

"You don't eat meat then?" Robb questioned as he cut into his sausage, watching as boiled water soaked through the skin. Iona pondered the question, "I favor fruits and vegetables, but meat is good for you I just eat mine in smaller portions."

"I'll take note of that, more fruits and vegetables with less meat. Lots of wine too."

Iona nearly choked on the berry she had been chewing, but she covered it up with her handkerchief, "pardon?"

"You like wine, I noticed the night previously."

Did that mean she was drinking too much? By the Old Gods, she was embarrassed, "ah, I see. Yes, I do partake in wine every now and again." Robb stifled back a chuckle as he chewed his food, "don't fret, I enjoy a good goblet every now and again. My favorite is Dornish wine, we don't get it quite often but it's sweet and dry; quite a combination."

"My favorite is Dornish was well!" Her excitement surprised her, "I..I mean, Dornish wine is good. Sweet, I like sweet things." Good, now she was blabbering. She cringed slightly as she chased down the fruit with her glass of milk. Robb smiled endearingly, "I'm glad we have somethings in common." His voice made it seem like he was going to say something else, the way he drew out the sentence, but he stopped himself. Iona smiled, "me too Robb."

Her father clapped his hands together, drawing the attention of the entire room, "since I needn't check on my daughter, Eddard I think we best get to busying ourselves with the ceremony." Lord Stark was chewing on a piece of egg, Iona only knew since it was the last thing on his fork, when he nodded, "yes, please excuse us while we discuss the ceremony." Lord Stark drew himself back from his dinning chair, but not before placing a kiss onto Catelyn's temple. They both left the hall, a low blow of whisperings and laughter. Iona hardly knew what to do with herself as the other Starks started to get up from their seats, but Robb sat beside her.

"Would you like a tour of the grounds, Iona?"

She was almost giddy when he asked, "that sounds lovely Robb, let me just finish the last of the fruits and we'll be off." Her stomach begged for no more, but she didn't want the food to waste. So, when it got down to the last of the berries she offered Robb some.

"I am a wee peak-ish." He popped the last few berries into his mouth before standing, pulling Iona's chair back for her. Instead of offering his arm, like he had done previously, Iona was surprised when he offered her his hand. She had never held hands with a man before and her facial features must've betrayed her because she could hear Robb stifle back a laugh. She laid her hand gently her hand atop his and she smiled when he wrapped his fingers around her hand. His large, calloused hands fit just right in hers; this made her laugh, the feeling of their skin brushing against the others. She hoped he didn't notice that her hands had suddenly gotten clam-y either.

"This way, Iona. Wintefell has many-a-great things to offer."

They walked the grounds, hand in hand, and Iona just knew people were staring at them. She brushed it off as the styling of her gown, the color of it; everything in Winterfell seemed to be shades of grays and browns, sometimes creamed whites. However, she knew deep inside that it was the fact that they had their hands locked together and when they traipsed across the courtyard, he helped lift the hem of her dress so it wasn't dirtied. They walked, almost silently unless Robb had spoken up to talk about Winterfell. He told her of the great guards they had, about how the high walls were built, and Iona felt enthralled with the Keep. It was old, perhaps not as old as Bolete Keep, but it had an atmosphere that was so free that it made Iona's heart soar. The people inside Winterfell weren't as stoic as Bolete's and they even smiled more, it greatly reminded her of the town of Hemlock Grove. Her mind was swept up in the memories of all the smiling faces of her home, she was scarcely aware that they had entered the Keep at all.

* * *

 _Robb_

He had found him glancing, more often than not, at Iona's face as he spoke. He worried that he was boring her with all the talk, but she seemed more than happy to listen. Even when he started talking about the history of the walls surrounding them, she would stop to ask questions and he would laugh merrily before answering them. It seemed odd, taking someone around Keep to see what all there was to see, but he was glad that he thought of doing it. Iona seemed more lively than she did in the dinning hall, smiling and laughing. He wouldn't have dreamed that she would be so, what is the word he was looking for? Happy, especially after the previous night. Robb knew, somehow he knew, that her thoughts still lingered on the attack; sometimes, when they stopped to talk in more detail, he would watch her eyes dart around them. He thought, that perhaps if he laid his hand on the hilt of his sword it would comfort her; it didn't. In fact, she seemed more skittish when he did it the first time, the only time. He played it off, thanking her once again for the nicely crafted sword, and that seemed to calm her.

He tried to think about somewhere she'd like to go. He thought that perhaps the Godswood, but he knew that her father (and perhaps, his,) would be furious if he took her from the safety of the walls. While they were talking, he remembered that the day she gifted him his fine sword, he noticed the books piled high on her writing desk. Yes, the perfect place to take her would be the library. So, without saying much, he directed them that way and she said nothing, just smiled and held onto his hand. He could feel his palm sweating, he didn't even know that was a thing, but it made his palm tickle whenever she held his hand closer to hers.  
By the time they entered the corridor that led to the library, he could see her smile fall slightly, "where are we going Robb?" Her voice was so breathy, a mixture of the cool Northern air and talking so much. Her voice wasn't naturally a high octave anyway; she had such a smooth sounding voice that chilled him slightly whenever she spoke. He tried his best to smile normally, afraid of smiling too wide or too small, "it's a surprise, but I think you'll enjoy it." Iona only nodded her head, that smile still hanging on as she looked around them. Her head was in the clouds perhaps, because when he opened one of the single double doors to the library, she didn't say a single word. It wasn't until they were both fully inside that he heard her gasp. The walls had been lined with books, walls of shelves with trinkets and old, musky books. He didn't spend much time in the library, he preferred to be outside in the Northern air, but when he saw her face light up he knew he had made the right choice.

Her hand slowly went limp in his grasp, and he reluctantly let it go as she walked forth. The library was one of the finer installments in Winterfell, furnished modestly with fur rugs that lined the fireplace and large, plush-looking chairs. There was even a game table, situated in the far corner of it. The room itself wasn't large, but that only made the smell of books more pungent. He watched from the doorway as her fingers spilled over the spines of the books and sometimes she'd delicately pull them out and scan them. Her lips were pulled into a small smile, but her dimples were pressed lazily into her skin like valleys of hills. Her eyes twinkled ever so slightly as she sighed, "this is a wonderful place, I didn't know Winterfell had a library."

Robb cleared his throat and bit back a laugh when she jumped slightly. Her cheeks turned pink as she pushed the book she had holding, back into its rightful spot. He smiled as she played with her fingers, her obvious embarrassment made him almost sorry that he had cleared his throat, "my mother used to spend hours in the library when I was younger, reading me stories on rainy days. It's one of the more insulated rooms in Winterfell, to keep the books undamaged so she enjoyed coming in here if only for the warmth."

"Bolete Keep has a library such as this, smaller perhaps, and lavish decorated. Father even had a boar's head mounted in there, it scared me when I was a child so I didn't spend much him in it," she rung her hands out in front of her as she spoke, "I like this library more. It feels like home, like you could lounge in it for hours on end without ever becoming bored or tired."

"You like it that much?" Robb pushed himself off of the doorway, letting the door close quietly behind him as he stepped into the room. He was keenly aware that this was the first time that the two of them had been truly alone, the thought made his abdomen warm, "I'll take you here everyday if you want. You can keep books in your chambers, it matters not." She smiled up at him, her green orbs never seemed more brilliant, "thank you, that'd be lovely, but I can't read that fast." She laughed lightly, her hand covering her lips to muffle the noise. He wished that she'd laugh loudly, like she had when they were dancing. She never looked more lovely than that moment.

Robb frowned at his own thoughts. When had he taken to calling girls _lovely_? Iona brushed her hand against Robb's, "have I said something wrong?" He glanced down at her and saw that a frown was also tugging at her lips, downturning them into a pout. He shook his head and smiled, "nothing you could say would upset me, really. Just thinking to myself is all." Iona looked like she didn't believe him, which was fine because he didn't even believe himself. No, nothing she said had upset him, but his thoughts upset himself. _Lovely_ , he chastised himself silently, he called her _lovely_ like some dolt.

"May I glance through some of the books?"

Robb nodded his head, "of course, I'll light a fire incase we're here for long." Iona smiled in kind and began to glance at the books. He made his way over to the fireplace and threw some dry wood into the mouth of the ashy pit. He encased it with dry grass and twigs, something that was stocked up in a bowl to the side, and searched the mantle for matches. He didn't find any, much to his chagrin, but he improvised by lifting a candle from the mantle and lighting the dried grass aflame. He stoked the grass and twigs underneath the logs, his fingers burnt with the after flame of the candle, but it worked. The logs crackled slightly as he blew on them, making sure not to suffocate the flame. Though he wasn't an expert, he was able to set a small fire. He smiled contently and turned around, his smile becoming wider as he saw that Iona had found a book that interested her. The book was bound in dyed leather and gold thread spiraled the title _The Greene Knight_.

"Found something did you?"

Iona looked up from the book and smiled, "quite, it looked interesting enough. I've never read it before."

Robb remembered the title, only by name however. His mother fancied the book and he saw her with it when he was but a boy. He sat beside Iona, watching as she leaned slightly away from him. He had frowned, but remembered that they were absolutely alone, together. She shyly pushed a curl behind her ear, "do you read much?" Her eyes still scanned the page as she spoke. He wondered how fast she was reading the pages because she hadn't flipped it just yet. That's when she glanced up from the pages and caught his eyes. Robb glanced away and cleared his throat, his shirt felt a little too tight around his throat suddenly.

"Not as much as I'd like, but I read every now and again."

"What is your favorite to read, when you do find the time?"

He thought for a moment, " _Tales of Westeroes_ , I would figure." He heard Iona giggle quietly, "how grandiose." He smiled and looked back at her, back to where her eyes were settled on the page and she was unmoving.

"Something - "

"Would you - "

They spoke at the same time. Iona's cheeks filled with color again and Robb laughed, "you go first." Robb conceited. She opened her mouth, then closed it. She repeated the motion several times. Robb felt like this was something she did often, he had seen her do it more than once since she arrived.

"Would you, oh this is a silly idea, would you like to read along with me?" Iona offered the book up, like a gift and smiled through her reddening cheeks. Robb felt his cheeks heat up too, "that'd be nice I think." Robb watched as Iona leaned close to him, he lifted his arm up and curled it around her shoulder shyly, pulling her a little closer than before. Iona gazed up at him with parted lips before letting a breathy laugh part them. Her shoulder fit into the joint of his shoulder easily and she leaned her head closer to his chest as their legs pushed together. Robb could feel his heart pound in his chest, he could smell rosewater on her skin and a scent of something not so familiar, but it was sweet and light. Her hair brushed against his cheek and he could tell that she hadn't noticed, but instead concentrated on the book. He placed a hand over hers, steading the book as she trembled with nerves, and read along silently. After a few minutes of silence, she spoke quietly, "have you finished the page?"

"Not quite," he chuckled, "sorry I'm such a slow reader."

"Nonsense, you're just diligent."

He have never know someone to think of positive words to replace negative ones. Most people either agreed or stayed silent, maybe it was because he was _Lord_ Robb Stark that they did that.

"Can you just read to me?" Robb asked finally, the thought had been on his mind and that's why he was reading the same sentence three times over. She looked surprised, but then a gentle smile replaced the look and she nodded, "it'd be my pleasure." He could feel her relax _into_ him, her cheek pressed against his chest and he wondered if her heart was pounding as fast as his? And then, she started reading aloud. Her voice was smooth, but quiet which made Robb strain to hear her voice; he didn't mind, "There was no castle or manor free, that might harbor that company. Their entourage was so great, their tents up they pitched. For to lodge there all that night, in the same spot where they feast."

She paused as she licked her thumb, pressing it down to the page to turn it slowly and continued reading, "messengers there came and went, with much victualls verament; both by way and street. Wine and wild fowl thither was brought - within they spared nought. For gold, if they could get it." Robb could feel his fingers twitch against hers, which brought a single bubble of laughter from her lips.

He listened to her read quietly before the door to the library opened. Iona lifted her head from his chest and leaned back away, her hand pulling from his, but he kept his there. Her tawny handmaiden stood beside her guard, Ser Byron, and she curtsied before she spoke, "Excuse the interruption my Lady and Lord, I didn't know where you have gone off to, but it's time for your noon fast." Robb didn't even know it was growing into the afternoon, it felt much like the morn from the sun shinning through the window. Iona curled her fingers against the book and smiled up at Robb, "shall we go have something light to eat then?" He dared not to say no to her, especially when she was smiling so brightly up to him. He noted her cheeks were aflame and he could tell she was embarrassed so he let her hand go. She looked down at the hand was holding only a few seconds ago, flexing her fingers and waited for his answer.

"My stomach is telling me yes, lets." He watched Iona stand gracefully, smoothing out her skirts before waiting for him to stand. He stood and placed the book on the table beside them, looking towards the fire that was ebbing away before leaving the room behind.

* * *

 _Catelyn_

She walked the walkways of Winterfell, her light footfalls letting her know she was quite alone. Sometimes, especially when Ned was in meetings and she found herself without her children, she would wander back towards the library. She felt like she hadn't been there in ages, she probably hadn't been. She missed the scent of books and the warmth of the room, it called for her to come back.  
Catelyn lifted the skirts of the dress, walking a little fast towards her little, cozy spot. When she first arrived in Winterfell, she'd spend nights alone just reading. When Ned had gone off to war, she busied herself in front of the library's fire, reading to her swollen belly. The library was a place where her mind stayed with her and she could say her thoughts were her own. When she arrived in front of the doors, she pushed one open and slipped inside. The room was as humid as she remembered, the smell of old books hung in the air, and the twinge of a dying wood fire. She walked over to the seating area and found that only the sparks of a fire remained and a forgotten book was settled on the table beside the lounge. Her fingers glossed over the title, _The Greene Knight_ , and she smiled.

 **AN: AHA, some Catelyn POV there for you to read. It's small, but I'm not entirely comfortable with writing in Catelyn's style yet. I'm sure the more the story progresses, the more I'll be able to comfortably write Lady Stark. I know not much is going on in the chapter, but it felt necessary to write something of Iona and Robb becoming close together; especially after such a scary thing. I didn't want to rush it, even though I _was_ going to write in an almost kiss in this chapter. It seems too soon and I didn't want to rush it, so I decided against it. The next chapter will feature a time skip, most likely a week or so, but it'll be decided in the next chapter so look forward to that!**

 **A lot of Iona's relationships are caught in this chapter, from her father to Robb and Jon, but I hoped you enjoyed it! Jon is fun to write about, but hard to write a romance with (i.e. my other story) so sometimes it's just nice to write him as the young man he is instead of a romantic icon. _The Greene Knight_ is an actual book, if you want to read it. It's a poetic rhyme type of story and it's written in old english (though it has been translated) plus it's a romantic tale and I thought it would be a nice little feature.  
I'm actually not too sure if Winterfell has an actual library, but I figured that most Keeps would have them so I wrote it in. **

**If you think that Iona is moving on too fast from her attack, rest assured a lot of that will be addressed in the upcoming chapters. A lot of Iona's character is based up guilt of making others worried about her. She tries to close herself off, but in the end it works against her and you'll see that in the next chapter (most likely). Sorry for the long Author's Note, but these things needed to be addressed :) Thanks again for reading and I'll see you next time!**

 **RHatch89: Thank you! Hope you've enjoyed this update just as much :)**


	7. Seven: Beautiful Things

**Of Hemlock and Wolves  
** _SyntheticProduct_

* * *

Longer Summary: People often forget that Hemlock is not just pretty and dainty, a small flower that is pleasing to the eye; it is poisonous, but when you plant them in abundance, it's deadly. Hemlock Grove got it's name for the deadly accuracy of their bowmen, for their trained warriors, but also known because they were almost neutral in every war. Natives of Hemlock Grove would say that it was as simple as they wanted peace, but others called them out on selfishness; berated them for it. Besides their ferocious talents, there was also a softer side to the town; they were simple lumberers and miners, crafting things from what they gathered and sold them as specialties. The Rhys family controlled Hemlock Grove, they have for more than a millennia since it was built with their own hands. From generation to generation, the land and it's keep (Bolete Keep) was passed down and handled accordingly, but now that Willard Rhys has his hands on it he plans to gain more and more for his family, even going as far as going into battle against House Targaryen. Now was the time of peace, but there is much more power to be gained. Especially through marriages of convenience.  
Robb/Iona; Theon/Sansa; Jon/Gretchen (another OC)

* * *

Chapter Seven: **Beautiful Things**

* * *

Iona had settled into a schedule of normalcy, well of somewhat normalcy. Every day that passed there were some of the same things, differentiating perhaps but still the same. Maester Luwin would come to check on her healing wound in the morn and usually rub a mint-based salve on it; it soothed the ache that the wound pulsated, but the wound was scabbing over leaving only a discolored, slightly jagged line. He had assured her that it wasn't too noticeable, that only people who were looking for it would find it. Even though it had healed over, she would complain to Eleonora that the wound still ached like it was open and her easily-worried handmaiden would once again call upon the Maester. He had told Iona that was an effect of her mind, her insecurities recreated the pain. So, every morn he would sit and talk with her and every morn it was the same; Iona would sit and sew while he read because she wouldn't speak of it. Embarrassed and angry that someone would mark her, she wouldn't even speak of the ugly emotions rising in her. Sometimes though, she would say a simple thing such as _are you sure the wound isn't noticeable_ or _I'm frightened to wear such a dress_ , especially if it was low cut. Maester Luwin picked up on those and soothed her worries. He never told her she was vain, he told her that she was scared and that it was okay to be so, but she needed to talk to someone about it. He mentioned if she wasn't comfortable with talking to him, mayhap she would talk to Eleonora. It was all the same to Iona, she wouldn't disclose such a weakness to anyone and she taunted herself for even saying such things to Maester Luwin.

"You can talk to me my Lady," Eleonora whispered as she brushed through Iona's hair, "it's all in confidence, I would never utter a single word to anybody." Iona's fingers were tracing the line that ran across her throat and as Eleonora spoke, she dropped the musing hand to her lap. She smiled, weakly perhaps because it made Eleonora frown, "it's alright Eleonora, nothing is the matter." She tried to appease her, tried to will her friend to stop pushing.

"Nothing is alright my Lady, you don't need to act strong in front of me. We knew each other since we were girls, I only wish you happiness." Eleonora put down the brush and began to pin up Iona's hair, braiding it and the rolling it up into a bun. An elegant hairstyle as far as Hemlock Grove was considered, but Iona had wondered if people in Winterfell considered it a Southern style, "aye, leave my hair down today. It'll be a nice change." Eleonora nodded her head sadly and unpinned her work before letting the curls fall upon Iona's shoulders. They cascaded over her breasts and settled against her ribcage, it was plain so Eleonora braided some hair against Iona's crown. The dress she wore was off her shoulders, a dark blue color that shimmered in the sun with long sleeves that far reached her fingertips. Iona wanted - no, needed - to prove that she was scared or insecure, that the scar meant little to her just as her dreams meant little to her as well.  
The weather was fair in Winterfell, the sun had been shining since early in the morn, but the clouds were starting to gather over the Southern most wall. The birds chirped back and forth and the Northern breeze carried it far. The leaves had changed color, some trees were yellow and red while others stayed green. An autumn storm perhaps.

Every day passed the same, although today was a little different. Almost a week had passed since the night of her attack, or the morn that Robb and her shared the book in the library. While she broke fast with the Starks, Sansa asked her to join her and Arya in their lessons. Today, Sansa announced happily, was embroidering and sewing unlike the days before where they learned writing and spelling, accounts and economics. Today, Sansa decided was the best day to entertain their guest. Iona accepted graciously and when their Septa came to collect them from the dinning hall, Iona followed after them.

"If I had more notice that you were joining us Lady Iona, I would've prepared an embroidering hoop for you." Septa Mordane said as they sat, Iona could see Sansa frown as if she failed at something.

"Ah, nonsense Septa Mordane, I have my own project I'm currently working on. I'm embroidering a gown for my handmaiden as a gift. I can go collect it while you start the girl's needlework."

"Nonsense, we'll send a servant to collect it from your quarters."

A knock at the door discontinued the slight argument that Iona had gotten herself into. Septa Mordane answered it with her foot propping the wooden door open, "Jeyne Poole, I see you've decided to grace us with your appearance." The girl in question was every sense of a Northern lady, with dark hair and brown, shimmering eyes. She was holding a gown made of dyed creamed-pink material. Iona recognized it immediately and stood to claim it, "it would seem, Septa Mordane, that my handmaiden sent her along late with my project. If anyone is to be blamed it is I." Septa Mordane looked unconvinced, but smiled and let the child in. Iona swept the gown from the girl's arms and Jeyne looked satisfied with the delivery. She took a seat next to Sansa, the one empty chair that Iona had been silently questioning.

Septa Mordane sat out another chair for Iona, between Jeyne and Arya. Sansa was already happily working on what Iona assumed was one of her own dresses. It was a light grey color and Sansa was working on vine-y flowers along the skirts. Arya didn't look happy to be here, she had her arms crossed as Septa Mordane sat down the project she had started previously. At first, Iona couldn't decipher what Arya was trying to make, but after looking at it for it bit it became clearer, "a direwolf is it?"

Arya perked up, "yes it is! Septa Mordane said it wasn't discernible. See Septa, Iona knows what it is!" Iona had thought it a lucky guess, but was happy that she could make Arya smile. The needlework was crooked and the pattern was blocky, but it was a good start. Not everyone is gifted with swift fingers, Iona was one herself. It took her years with a lot of willpower to be able to even make a flower correctly, and her fingers were used as a pin cushion for longer than she would've liked. Iona simply smiled as Septa Mordane huffed, "I didn't say it was bad Arya, I just said that your needlework _needed work_. I even begged you to create something more simple than a direwolf for your first full-fledged project." Arya huffed this time and Iona had to stifle back a chuckle that was about to erupt from her throat. She coughed quietly into her hand before pulling out a needle, stringing it with little effort and began sewing. This was to be Eleonora's gift for Iona's wedding, a nicely made gown of fine quality that she could wear at the ceremony. Eleonora had little thought about the dress, hopefully thinking that Iona was making it for herself; it was to be a surprise after all. She was working on fine details of large flowers against the hem of the skirt, vines rose elegantly at the slit of the dress up onto the cinched waist.

"That is a beautiful design my Lady," Septa Mordane complimented, "the gold thread accents the pink quite nicely." Iona smiled at the older woman, stilling her hand for a moment as Arya snorted beside her, "Arya, how unladylike!" The Septa scolded. Arya didn't even look fazed as she held her needle, the grey thread not going where she wanted it to. As Iona worked silently, she watched as Arya had trouble stringing the needle. As Arya began to become more frustrated, Iona stopped her work and turned slightly to Arya.

"It's like notching an arrow on a bow," Iona said quietly, which made Arya look up, "you have to be graceful as you notch an arrow, put it in the precise position so it will fly from your fingers with a single pluck." Arya narrowed her eyes and nodded her head, a renewed fire in her eyes. Iona watched again, her hands clutching the material of her dress as she prayed that Arya could do it. Septa Mordane was busy helping Sansa undo a mistake she had made, no remarks were made from the old woman, but she was frowning as she cut the thread from the dress. Sansa looked as if she would cry from the easy mistake.

"A-ha!" Arya shrieked suddenly and Iona whipped her head back to see that Arya had strung the thread through effortlessly, "thank you Iona, you're right in some sense, I just pictured the needle and thread as a bow and arrow." Arya's smile made Iona melt, it was so bright and lovely that Iona wished that smile would stay there for a bit longer. Arya's tongue darted out from her mouth, licking the corner of her mouth and stayed there as she began to embroider down into her project. Iona felt pleased enough to begin on her own project, finishing off a leaf before tying off and cutting the thread.

"How do you keep everything so precise, Lady Iona?" Iona glanced up to meet Sansa's weepy eyes. Iona tried to give the young girl her best smile and placed the needle into the material of the dress, as not to lose the small thing, "practice Lady Sansa, lots of practice and patience. You can't get frustrated when you make a mistake, you have to learn from it and try again."

"This is what I've tried to explain to you before Sansa," Septa Mordane sounded frustrated herself, "patience and practice."

"Septa Petra, the one that I grew up with, was a harsh teacher," Iona remembered fondly, "she cared about me greatly of course, but every time I made a mistake she wouldn't help me undo it like Septa Mordane is doing. She'd let me sit there for hours and watch me pick out the thread of my project, watch as I cried about how unfair it was. She always told me that _it was your mistake, so you have to fix it_." Septa Mordane looked pleased with the story as she gave a sort of look towards Sansa, one that read as _I told you so_. Sansa smiled through her weepy eyes, "I see, can I have my project back Septa Mordane?" The Septa looked confused for a moment, only a moment, before handing the dress over with a smile that reached her eyes. Sansa began to pick out the threading with extra care and Iona watched as her hand that held the small blade, shook slightly.

"Think of it as an extension of your fingers, the cutting blade. It'll make it easier to pick out the thread if you think of it as an extra length to your fingers."

"Like how a sword is an extension of your own hand!" Arya added on, looking pleased as Sansa glared at her.

"If you thought of more ladylike pursuits, maybe you'd be able to not trip over the hem of your dress."

"I don't like dresses anyway! They get in the way of everything." Arya was exasperated by her sister, the feeling was familiar for Iona. Bethally would get on Iona's nerves endlessly, always telling her petty things to hurt her.

Iona cleared her throat as Septa Mordane began to scold them for making a scene, "To be fair, Lady Sansa, I couldn't sew or embroider nicely when I was Arya's age. It took years for me to learn patterns and to will myself to do better, I much preferred to read books and go down to the village to talk to the folk there. Everyone has their preferences, it is not to be shamed." She thought of Bethally as she said those words. Bethally would chastise Iona for dirtying her hands with the work of the common folk, chastise her for taking comfort in the words of a good book; her only reprise was her father scolding Bethally for being unladylike. That really rubbed Bethally the wrong way.

Sansa looked down and continued her work silently as did Arya. Jeyne Poole looked uncomfortable as she fidgeted in her seat, glancing down at her embroidering hoop when Sansa nudged her.

A while later, Septa Mordane announced that she was going to get refreshments for the young ladies and left the room shortly after. Arya jumped up from her seat, stretching her arms far above her head, "I think I'll take my leave then." The entire time Iona was sewing, she would hear Arya openly complain about not wanting to be there. She used the words boring and useless. Iona smiled quietly, but Arya was reprimanded by the Septa only a short while later.

"You can't leave!" Sansa shouted, "these are our lessons, and we have a guest."

Arya turned to look at Iona, a big smile plastered on her face, "I don't think Iona would mind if I left."

" _Lady_ Iona!" Sansa shrieked, "address her properly!"

"Why?" Arya shouted back, "she is to be family soon enough anyway and it's not like I haven't asked her if I could call her that either." Huffing, Arya hurried towards the door.

"I'll tell Septa Mordane you weren't feeling well and decided to go to your room the rest." Iona said simply. The implication was there, that Arya could practice her throwing knives in her room and not get in trouble. Arya grinned as soon as the words left Iona's mouth; she had gotten the message.

"Of course! Farewell everyone, and Sansa." Arya opened the door and left quietly after. Sansa was in a tizzy the moment the door shut, "you can't indulge her Lady Iona, she'll keep doing this if she doesn't learn."

Iona kept sewing, the golden thread going in and out as she talked, "her fingers were bleeding, I think that'd be more than enough to have her go lay down for awhile, or a visit to the Maester if she so chooses to." It was partially the truth. Arya's fingers had begun to bleed, the small pinpricks of the needle made sure of that. Arya didn't say anything, but Iona saw her sucking her fingers after a jolt. Blood had even gotten on Arya's project, small sweeps of mahogany that had begun to dry. Iona stopped, once again, and picked up Arya's project. It was lovely in simplicity, the edges were blocky and sharp, but she had _tried_. Iona stood from her chair, fetching her handkerchief from her sleeve before dipping it into the drinking water. She dapped the edges where the dried blood was and soon it was beginning to lift.  
Sansa said nothing, but Jeyne gave a soft chuckle, "you'll be a grand mother, Lady Iona." It was to be a compliment, but it made Iona's hands stop. She froze, but just as the feeling overcame it disappeared and she began to wash her handkerchief with some clean water, "thank you." It was a mere whisper, but Iona was sure that Jeyne heard it.

The silence was thick in the air even as Iona returned to her spot. She hummed quietly as she sewed, to relieve some of the silence. Sansa hummed along after a while, obviously knowing the song. Jeyne stayed silent until Septa Mordane returned. She carried a heavy-laden tray with cups of steaming drinks and small, finger-sized sandwiches. When she set down the tray, the first words from her mouth were exasperated, "where has Arya gone?"

Iona didn't even look up as she continued sewing, "she returned to her rooms, she said she was feeling unwell."

"I should fetch the Maester then, to check up on her. We can't have the littlest lady coming down with a cold." Iona stopped sewing and looked up towards the Septa, who was unbelieving of Iona's story.

"If it'd make you feel better Septa Mordane, I can go check on Lady Arya to see if she's feeling better. Or if the Maester has visited her."

"I can't have you going to watch over her - "

"Nonsense," Iona dismissed quickly, "she's to be my good sister, isn't she? I'd be an honor to check up on her." Septa Mordane sighed and gave in, telling Iona to make sure to call upon Maester Luwin if Arya hadn't seen him yet. Iona obliged and left the room, breathing in deeply as the fresh air hit her suddenly. The Northern breeze was howling against the stone and the sun was completely covered by the clouds now. Iona paced herself as she made her way towards Arya's chambers, under the guidance of Septa Mordane's words. Iona was keenly aware that Ser Tern was trailing behind her at a safe length, his chest plate clanked as he walked.

Iona rapt quietly on the large, wooden door. She could hear shuffling behind it, and sounds of curses before the door flung open, "Septa - " the words died on Arya's tongue as her eyes took in Iona's slightly shivering figure, "what are you doing here Iona?" Curious little thing she was, she cocked her head to the side and peered out into the hallway and most likely locked eyes with Ser Tern as she gave Iona a grumpy frown.

"You should be pleased to see me and not your Septa, she wanted to come check on you, but I persuaded her differently," Iona looked behind Arya into her room, "may I come in?" Arya opened her door wider, allowing Iona passage inside. Iona looked back at Ser Tern with a small smile before entering Arya's chambers. It was larger than Iona's to be sure, with a four-posted bed that had a canopy surrounding it. Of course, there was a connecting door for servants to enter and large, but modest furnishings. A large window let in light, but Iona amusingly saw that the room was a mess.

Arya didn't seem to mind though, "do you want to see my progress?" Iona turned to see Arya holding up the lacquered throwing knives with a large smile on her face. Iona clapped her hands together, "I'd love to, please show me." Iona sat down in a chair not too far from where Arya stood and brushed the lingering wrinkles from her skirt. Arya clamored half way between Iona and the door, fingering the throwing knives with her fingers.

"Okay, that large knot in the wood is the target, watch closely!" Even though Arya couldn't see her, Iona nodded her head and watched closely. Taking a large breath in, Arya took one of the throwing knives and aimed it in front of her. She gave a few knocks back, positioning the knife how she wanted it. Suddenly, with little warning she let the throwing knife go from her fingers. Iona clapped; the knife had only latched a few inches away from the knot, "that's amazing! Truly grand Arya, you have amazing marksmanship."

"Thank you!" She sounded excited as she turned towards Iona, "someone finally has praised me! Jon usually does, but all I get is scolded because it isn't _ladylike_." Arya put on a fake voice, one that was sharper and higher than her natural one; it sounded distinctly like Sansa. Iona cackled quietly, "throw the others! Let's see how well you do with those."

Knife after knife, they stuck into the door. Some of them were farther away from the knot and others were closer than the first, but none hit the knot where Arya was aiming. She seemed frustrated, "I am better than this usually..."

"If you think of it this way, if it were a person or animal you would've hit it nearly dead on. Practice and patience Arya, those words apply to almost everything."

"Practice and patience," Arya muttered, "I definitely have more patience than my sister!" Arya cackled loudly, her laugh echoed in her chambers. Iona only smiled, laughing quietly along but didn't agree or disagree with the littlest Stark girl. Arya then did something unexpected, she threw her arms around Iona's neck and embraced her. Iona floundered slightly, but settled on embracing the girl back. Her hands were awkward on Arya's shoulder blades, but she pat them nonetheless, "you give bad hugs," Arya mused, "but we can work on it." Arya peeled herself back from Iona with a careless smile. Iona smiled as well, knowing all to well that she had been caught.

"My younger sister never wanted hugs, the only one I'd give them to was my baby brother." Travan's smiling face lingered in her mind's eye, making a bittersweet feeling fall over her. She sighed quietly, still smiling up at Arya who stood above her.

"You miss them?"

"My siblings?" Arya nodded her head, "to be honest, I was never quite close to my sister, Bethally. I always wanted to be, but she was closer to my mother and didn't want anything to do with me. We have little to nothing in common, but my baby brother..." Iona trailed off slightly, "Travan is my pride and joy. I'd spend as much time with him as possible, when my mother allowed it. He was my friend."

"Bethally and you sound like me and Sansa; Sansa being Bethally and me being you." Arya was nearly grinning ear to ear, "except I don't like dresses and sewing." She made a disgusted face and Iona had to laugh. Iona leaned closer to Arya, beckoning the small girl towards her. Arya leaned in, "between you and me, Sansa is much nicer than my sister."

Arya made a horrified face, "your sister must be the rudest snot then."

Iona snorted, then covered the mouth with her hands while Arya barked with laughter, "now that was unladylike!"

Iona and Arya conversed about many things. From Arya's bow marksmanship, along with the throwing knives, and traversing around Winterfell. Iona listened quietly, asking questions here and there, but sometimes the conversation veered towards Iona's life. She talked about the books she read, or the townsfolk that she knew in Hemlock Grove. Passionately, she would talk about the farmers and the woodsmiths, about the ironworkers and the simple townsfolk that lived in her town. Arya seemed enthralled with Hemlock Grove, "I want to visit there someday."

"I'd love to take you, with your mother's approval. I think you'd love it there. There are lots of children, both boys and girls that play all day in the creek that runs through the town. They climb the trees in our orchards and they have mini competitions with bows and apples, it's all quite amusing to watch."

"Do you do archery?"

Iona smiled, "I know of it, I tried it, but I was never good at it." Arya laughed along with Iona, "I would miss a still target by at least a meter, if not more."

"You're almost as bad as Bran, actually I think he's a little better."

Iona chuckled, "most likely."

Their conversation was interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. Arya groaned and leaned back on the floor, her head smacking it with a loud noise. She didn't even seemed bothered by it, "it's probably Septa Mordane."

"Well you should probably answer it anyway," Iona chuckled as Arya eyed her, "she knows we're in here." Arya laid there for a moment more before rolling up and off the ground, sulkily opening the door with a rather morbid greeting. Arya's shoulders perked up as she yelled, "Jon!" Iona stood from her chair just to catch the scene unfolding behind the door. Arya had leapt up into Jon's arms, her arms knotting behind his head in a familial embrace. Iona smiled at the kind picturesque scene before Jon caught her eyes. He set her down and Arya unlatched from him, "what brings you here?"

"Robb is looking for Lady Iona, I joined in with the search when I caught Septa Mordane who pointed me to your chambers."

"Of course Robb is looking for his lovely betrothed," Iona flushed, "we were just talking, no harm done, right?"

Iona cut in here, "of course not Arya, I loved listening and talking with you. You have the most interesting things to say." Arya beamed up at Iona before turning towards Jon, "okay you can have her, I guess. I'll talk to you later, right Jon?"

"Of course Arya..." Jon looked at Iona with earnest eyes, "I'll take you to Robb, Lady Iona." Iona leaned down at pulled Arya into a hug, enclosing the small girl with her short arms. Arya chuckled and did the same, "see? Already getting better." Iona released her and bid her goodbye. Arya closed the door behind the two before Jon set off down the hall.

For the past week, Iona found Jon escorting her to most places. He never entwined arms with her, like most men would when escorting a Lady, but Iona found it refreshing rather than anything else. She would walk side by side with him, trying to start small conversations with him, but he seemed more interested in the silence around them. Iona would get frustrated, slightly annoyed even, but she'd calm herself and surrender into the silence; it was pleasant.

"I hope you haven't indulged Arya too much," Jon spoke softly, startling Iona, "she gets in trouble as it is for skipping out on lessons with Septa Mordane." Iona smiled at his concern and stretched her arms out in front of her, lazily. She bobbed her head which made her hair fly over her shoulders, "she wasn't feeling well, I haven't the vaguest clue on what you're on about."

More silence, but Iona swore she caught a smile on Jon's lips. It was almost a ghost of an image because when she looked closer, it was gone. Iona sighed softly and continued on with the silence.

"Your wound is healing quite nicely, Lady Iona."

Iona felt her arms freeze at her sides before one of her hands traced up to her throat, nimbly tracing the white line, "yes." Her fingernails scratched the healing wound gently, sending shivers down her back. No one had commented on the healing other than the Maester and Eleonora, they just stared if anything.

"I apologize, I shouldn't have brought it up." Iona looked at Jon, perplexed by him. He was quite the enigma, always gentle and bold, but insecure and polite. Iona's hand tightened around her throat for a moment, but released it soon after, "no, it's better to hear someone speak of it than catch lingering stares." They had reached the end of the corridor now, and had started to descend the staircase. Jon walked slower behind Iona as each step felt heavier and heavier.

"Have people been staring? It's hardly noticeable."

Iona couldn't help the bark of sarcastic laughter that bubbled in her throat, "yes, that's what Maester Luwin says as well, but I catch quite a few people staring at it every now and again. In fact, today Jeyne Poole seemed most interested in it." Yes, she had caught Sansa's friend staring at her more than a few times. Iona had brushed it off at first as curiosity of their guest, but soon after she had caught the girl staring directly below her face. _At the scar_. Iona would shift uncomfortably under the stare and clear her throat when Jeyne's eyes lingered too long there. When she knew she had been caught, her face would go through a range of reds and her cheeks almost seemed swollen.

"People tend to be curious over things that they don't know about."

Iona gave him an amused smile, one that pinched her cheeks tight, "I suppose so. I haven't thought of it that way before." Iona paused midstep as she gazed out the rectangular window that was carved into the stone, rain had started to trickle down from the skies. Winterfell was an unusual place, the weather seemed to not know what it wanted to do. Just this morning it was bright and sunny, but now it was dreary and rainy. Hemlock Grove was quite different, you had days in advance to know when a rainstorm was drawing in, or even a snowstorm; the clouds always seemed to linger outside the walls before moving over it. The cold air nipped at her skin, and her shivering drew her out of her own thoughts.

"Is everything alright Lady Iona?"

"Yes," Iona replied heavily, "yes it is." Iona returned to walking down the stairs, careful of the small puddles of moisture that was starting to form on the slick steps.

"If you wear it like an armor, no one can hurt you with it."

Iona contemplated Jon's words. If she had to wear it like an armor, it would mean she'd have to accept the fact that people were indeed _going to stare, going to ask questions, chastise her about it_ ; it'd be a weakness, but it'd also be a strength. Amused, Iona smiled, "you have the wisest advice Jon, but you know what they say: people that are silent have the wisest words to offer."

"You think I am silent?" Iona glanced over towards Jon, watching his eyes flicker with confusion, "why yes I do, whenever I try to start conversation with you, you simply ignore me. I figured you mustn't like talking, or perhaps you don't like me." Iona teased him, watching his eyes fill with shock this time. It was in that moment that Jon had completely _missed_ the last step, entirely and slipped back onto his backside. Iona was quick to his side, "by the Old Gods! Jon are you alright?" Iona's hands hurriedly checked over his arms and shoulders for any tender spots and when she gazed back up into his eyes, she stopped short of checking his collarbone. He looked so startled, so surprised that when the bubbling laughter left his mouth, Iona couldn't do anything but slouch against the ground and join him. The laughter was so loud that it echoed down the corridor, up the stairs, everywhere.

Tears formed in her eyes from laughing so hard and when she picked how exactly he had slipped down the steps, it caused more laughter to build up. It was so relieving to laugh this hard, so freeing. Jon had gotten to his feet first, offering a hand to Iona who was still sitting on the ground. Iona put her hand in his and let him lift her from the ground, "J..Jon I didn't know such a giant of a man could go down so gracefully." She joked, wiping away the tears from her eyes. Jon snickered too, "and I didn't think a Lady would lose all the strength in her body to sit on the ground like a stablehand."

"Did Jon just make a jest?" Iona gasped, "history has been made," Iona giggled this time, "and just for the record, I used to help in the stables from time to time. I love horses!"

"That would make the most sense of why you're hanging around the bastard of Winterfell - Iona." Iona stilled at the new voice and felt saddened as Jon's smile faded from sight. Iona knew the voice, she had heard it from time to time, but never had the pleasure of hearing it direct towards her. Theon Greyjoy stood a few feet away with a smile that curled at the tips. There was an indistinguishable air of arrogance around him, "what is that suppose to mean, Lord Greyjoy?"

The mere mention of his name from her made his grin all the wider, "oh only that horses would be better company than Snow." Jon's shoulders slumped slightly as he stared ahead at Theon, "just so you know Lady Iona, Theon is no Lord; there is no need to address him as such."

"I have higher standing than you, bastard."

Iona felt the tension rise in the corridor, "Then, _Theon_ I much prefer Jon's presence around me than someone that thinks they are better than everyone," Iona prickled as his gaze fell upon her, "and the next time you address me, address me correctly or not at all. My title is _Lady Iona_ , you are no friend of mine to address me so leisurely," she turned towards Jon, "but you Jon, you may address me simply as Iona; you have proved enough to me that you are a good and _honorable_ man." Her heart thrummed in her chest, she had never talked to someone like this, but she was angry. So angry at Theon for putting himself above Jon like he was better than the man that saved her life.

"Let's go Jon, I'd rather be in the presence of others."

When Iona had brushed against Theon, she felt her body being snapped back. Theon, red faced with anger, had outstretched his hand and wrapped it around her arm. Iona tried to to tug it back as fear seeped into her, "I'd ask you to remove yourself from me."

"You can't just talk to me like that you stupid bit - "

The curl of his fingers were promptly removed before he could finish his sentence. Iona hadn't even realized she had closed her eyes, but when she opened them she saw Jon holding back Theon's arm behind his back. Theon cursed him, "let go you dumb bastard."

"You shouldn't touch a Lady with your filthy hands, Theon, especially the one that is to be your best friend's wife." Jon reluctantly let Theon's arm fall back to its proper place before stalking ahead of him, "this way my Lady." Iona followed behind him, leaving behind a red faced Theon. More silence as they walked until Iona spoke up, " _my_ Lady huh?"

Jon seemed nonplussed, "yes."

"Does that mean...?"

"I don't know," Jon sighed, "I've thought of it, that I could have a place in Winterfell."

"You'll always have a place in Winterfell Jon, even if you don't accept the position."

Jon was silent, "it's odd," he said quietly, "I haven't accepted it, but it seems like I'm escorting you place to place."

"Protecting me," Iona joked, "my knight in shining leather."

She managed to bring out another smile from him, "just know my Lady that I am thinking carefully about the option."

Iona indulged him with silence before chuckling, "I am glad for that Jon, it'd be a relief if you were by my side."

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb thanked Jon for escorting Iona to him and they both seemed in fine health, even after he heard about the incident involving Theon. Iona seemed a little shaken up when Jon spoke about it, but offered both of them a small smile. Robb wanted to reach out and brush the hair away from her face, but stilled his hand as Jon spoke. While they were in the library, Iona wondered off to find another book to read.

"He grabbed her?" Robb questioned quietly as he seethed. Jon nodded his head, "he seemed to have quite a few words for her to, almost called her some choice words."

Robb groaned and rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, "he's rather rambunctious lately."

Jon snorted, "perhaps it's because he hasn't visited the whore house lately." Robb knew that this had been true. Between the security issues around Winterfell and the rush to get everything prepared for the wedding ceremony, Theon was stuck with odd jobs like escorting merchants or bringing up materials from the town. He was put on a tight leash from Robb's father and that probably made Theon feel strangled.

"You've been helpful Jon, thank you so much."

"It's not an issue." Jon humbly said, giving Robb a small smile. Robb had to wonder if Jon was enjoying the bustling start of Winterfell, especially since it brought in more and more people from outside the Keep. Ones that didn't know his name and treated him kindly; it made Robb swell with pride.

"So, are you still thinking on that proposal from the Rhys's?"

It had been a tender issue between Robb and Jon. Jon had spoken at times about wanting to leave Winterfell because he felt like he didn't have a place, in fact the most recent plan was to join the Watch. Robb tried to persuade Jon to stay and help in Winterfell, _we could always use more hands_ and _you're my brother, you'll always have a place here_ , but nothing seemed to persuade Jon to want to stay. That was, until now. Robb noticed a difference in Jon, a more assertiveness cast over him since Willard Rhys had offered him to join Iona's personal guard. Jon was ever quiet about what was going on in his mind's work, but sometimes Robb could caught a shadow of thought over Jon's face. Robb noticed that Jon would shadow Iona when she walked with her handmaiden through the courtyard, and sometimes Jon seemed to have more idea where she'd be than Robb did. Sometimes it made Robb envious.

It made Robb more envious when Iona seemed to smile around Jon more, to laugh around him more. It was all a concept of chaos for Robb, but between the envy and the thought of loss of his brother; Jon won the battle every time. The thought of not having Jon around Winterfell, it seemed so unreal for Robb. He'd feel like a piece of him was missing if Jon were to disappear into the Watch.

"I think I've made up my mind." Jon stated quietly, his voice was a whisper and Robb strained to hear him. Jon looked convinced, set in what he was thinking, but Robb didn't know _what_ he was thinking.

"Your decision...?"

Jon smiled, but didn't reply. Robb huffed in frustration as Iona spoke up from behind him, "Robb, will you come read with me?" Jon's smile cracked into a grin as he patted Robb's shoulder, "I'll talk to you later Robb."

Robb felt mystified as Jon left and irritated to boot. He turned towards Iona who was curled up on the lounge with a large, leather bound book in her hands. She smiled curiously, but didn't ask what they were talking about. Robb gave her a smile before joining her on the lounge, relaxing as she read; however, even as she read, he couldn't help but think of what Jon was thinking about.

* * *

 _Catelyn_

"No, no, no," Catelyn said softly, watching as the young servant curled back, "the large bouquet is to be placed on the family table, centered between myself and Lord Stark." Wedding preparations were just as chaotic as Catelyn had imagined, but it made her chest flutter with pride thinking about her son being wed. Her wedding wasn't rushed by any means, but she was not part of her wedding preparations just as Iona was not apart of hers. Catelyn had talked to the young Lady for only a few moments about what she wished to be done, or asking simple questions like _what is your favorite flower?_ Purple mountain flowers, was Iona's simple response; it reminded her of home.  
The large bouquet was made up of purple mountain flowers with dainty baby's breath and decorative leaves; it reminded her much of her soon to be gooddaughter.

The servants had drew up plans of what the dining hall would look like for the wedding celebrations; drapes made of the Stark's colors would be wound along the walls and beams of the high ceiling while pots and vases of flowers would be scattered along the tables. Catelyn even remembered that Iona didn't care for meats so the wedding feast would be largely made up of fruits and vegetables, some of them even came as wedding presents from Dorne. A succulent fruit known as a _pomegranate_ for instance; it oozed red juice that was bitter on the tongue and held many pits. Catelyn didn't know a great dealings of the Rhys family, but apparently Willard Rhys had made connections in Dorne; they sent their regards and apologizes for not being able to attend although a great many deal of Stark bannermen made it their knowledge to come to Winterfell.  
Chambers would be made up and the firewood would be stocked full, as well as the pantries.

It was all quite dizzying.

A brusk hand feathered light touches against her waist and she sunk into it, "how goes the preparations, Lady Stark?" Her husband's voice always soothed her, and somehow it made her feel lighter than before. Catelyn didn't lean into him like she wished, too many eyes watched them, but she gave his weathered cheek peppering kisses, "well, my love; although, I wish for the wedding to just be upon us already." Ned held back a chuckle before running his hand down her thinned waist, squeezing her hip before letting go.

"Aye, I'm sure that the bride and groom wish it as well."

"Speaking of which, have you seen Robb this noon?"

Ned straightened some silverware set out on the table, "a little bird told me that he was seen with Iona in the library not too long ago, I can only imagine that's where he is now." Catelyn hummed affirmatively towards the back of her throat before fixing the crooked silverware that Ned just attempted to straighten. Although it was a dress setting of what the wedding would be like, Catelyn would settle for nothing less than perfect, "they seem to be growing closer."

"Aye, which is what you had in mind when you asked them to come a fortnight early, wasn't it my love?" Catelyn shared a sly smile with her husband before busying herself with the table settling. After the wedding celebrations, Catelyn knew there would be a bedding ceremony and in the back of her mind she had wondered if Iona would appreciate the tradition or not. When Catelyn was a young girl, whom just married into the Stark's, there was a pause of anxiousness that arose in her when it came to the bedding ceremony and she was sure that she cried when she felt the groping hands of strange men on her.

"Everything will turn out perfectly Catelyn, you'll worry yourself thin by the ceremony day."

Ned's hands skimmed over the back of hers, clasping it in a tight hold as he smiled reassuringly. Catelyn held back a sigh, but breathed out heavily nonetheless. The servants were busy scampering around her, but one interrupted the couple, "excuse me, my Lady Stark, but these were left with the guards," Catelyn swiveled around, hand still clasped with Ned's, "it's a flower arrangement from the looks of it; addressed to Lady Iona." A translucent cloth was placed over the flowers, preserving the buds in their clay vase. Tentatively, Catelyn took off the cloth and what she saw shook her to the core. The flower arrangement was anything but normal, with thorn roses and budding hemlock interwoven through the thick spikes. At the center, a flower was draped across that Catelyn recognized as a bleeding heart - a rare flower that would ooze red fluid onto the pale white petals. The servant's hands shook and she gasped, "my Lady I didn't know - "

Ned pressed beside his wife, his hand plucking out a leaf of paper that was surrounded by the thorns. Carefully, ever-so, he grazed his hands against the flowers and opened the letter. The penmanship was dainty cursive that was done with a light hand, _beautiful things are easily broken._ Catelyn gazed over his arm, reading along with her beloved husband until he crumpled up the paper in his hand. He was silent for only a moment before his booming voice silenced the hall, "dispose of the flowers, burn them, bury them; I don't care, just get rid of them." The servant shakily curtsied before walking away quickly, her hands shaking around the clay vase.

"Ned - " Catelyn tempted, laying her hand on his shoulder as he rubbed his temples, "was the penmanship recognizable?"

"No, but that's what makes it all the worse."

* * *

 _Iona_

A laugh escaped her lips, bubbling out like water, "you're telling me that you've never been frog catching?" It was unfathomable to Iona that there were some people that have never experienced what frog catching actually was. Through the creek that ran through the middle of town, many things inhabited it and one of which was frogs. She was taught how to catch frogs by some of the children in town, they even beckoned her to watch them from time to time when she was in town. The creatures were slippery and sometimes they could bite, but once you caught one it was a glorious feeling. Robb laughed along with her, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, "I can't imagine you rolling your skirt up to your knees and chasing after frogs is all! Hardly proper for a Lady, don't you think?"

Aghast, Iona stared at him a little shocked, "towns children never care if a Lady is proper or not!" Robb shook with more laughter as he pushed his hair back from his forehead with his hand, running it down the back of his head and down his neck. Iona's face flushed and she could feel the heat radiating off of her as she shook with laughter herself. Perhaps the image she was painting was not the whole one, but she had definitely rolled her skirts up past her knees to chase after frogs in the creek. Sometimes she would help the children catch worms on a rainy day, and perhaps it wasn't proper at all; however, no one had ever chided her about it, but perhaps they were too embarrassed to even speak of it.

"Perhaps it wasn't proper at all, but I enjoyed watching the little ones smile; it was one of the best feelings you know." Iona leaned back into the lounge as her chest rose and fell, her breathing barely becoming even before he spoke, "and perhaps that's what makes you so beautiful, Iona." Taken a back, Iona looked over at him and feared that her eyes were bugging straight out of her head by what he just lamented. Iona gazed up at him, wide eyes and parted lips, before pushing hair behind her ear; a nervous tick, is what her mother called it. Her nerves stuck at a all high as his hand overlapped hers, curling into her palm as the warmth from his hand rested against her cheek. Her breath hitched in her throat and she couldn't think of a single thing to say, but perhaps that was also for the best.  
Robb's cheeks were rosy, almost like a flame and his eyes were narrowed as he glanced down at her. She wished she could hear what he was thinking and a part of her also wished she could hear him call her beautiful again; a selfish request, but it made her dizzy. It felt awkward to Iona, staring at him and him staring at her, but a part of it was calming too. His thumb stroked the high of her cheekbone as he gaze softened, "smile for me, will you?" It was but a whisper of a question, but Iona didn't need to hear it twice. She rested her cheek into his hand, smiling brightly up at him as his fingers curled over hers, "beautiful." Her heart leapt into her throat, or so it felt. She could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears and she was sure that Robb could hear it too, but he never said anything. Instead, he stared with bright blue eyes that burned into her.

Iona closed her eyes and did what her heart begged her to do, she melted into his touch and curved her head towards his hand to place a soft kiss against his palm. When she opened her eyes, his were wide, "thank you." And he smiled, so brightly and so wide that Iona feared that his cheeks would pinch; however, she liked this smile best. His face drew closer to hers and Iona's heart sped up, watching with rapt attention as he drew closer. He didn't shut his eyes and neither did she, a soft but delicate kiss was placed at the corner of her lips. Her heart was beating so hard that it actually hurt, his lips were so close and _so soft;_ she never imagined a man's lips to be soft before.  
His other hand drew to her face, fingers pressing against her chin and his thumb dragged over her lower lip. It hurt to be so close, to be this vulnerable, and so weak in front of him; her heart squeezed as his thumb tugged her lip down slightly before replacing it with his lips. He was _kissing_ her, and it took a moment for the thought to sink in, even if it was before her very eyes. It was soft and sweet, and Iona couldn't describe it more with words. Tantalizing short, but at the last moment she pressed her lips firmly against his; careful of what she was doing, because this was her first after all.

It was over before it truly begun and when it ended, it sent a warmth to her belly that she couldn't describe.

"My apologizes my Lady, I don't know what came over me."

His hands withdrew as did his face and the warmth that was lingering turned to ice when he stood from where he was sitting. Iona shared the same thought, first they were laughing and talking about things that neither of them had done, but this was something that they shared. Her stomach churned as he outstretched his hand towards her, "I'm sure that noon has risen already perhaps your handmaiden prepared food for you, you should go." Chills sent down her back and gooseflesh arose, and it felt like she had been soaked in cold water. She lamely took his hand, letting him pull her up from the lounge. His hand was so dreadfully warm that Iona didn't want to let go, but when his fingers uncurled from around hers, she had no choice.

And then he escorted her out to the corridor, leaving her with Ser Byron before _thanking her_ for the time she spent with him and walked away. Tears burnt her eyes, but she shook her head to combat it.

"Are you alright, my Lady?" Ser Byron asked quietly, watching as her chest rose and felt at a shallow pace, "has something happened?"

Iona thought for a moment, wanting to relieve to whole truth and wanting to be rid of the sensation of vipers tightening around her throat, but instead she swallowed back the pit forming in her throat and offered him a smile, "of course Ser Byron, would you kindly take me back to my room? I'd wish to have a quiet noon with Eleonora."

Because that was her wish, it was granted.

 **AN: Sorry for the lack of updates, been busy here because of the weather. Just had a big snow storm roll in that dumped about two feet of snow on us, but _of course_ my work wasn't canceled so I still had to go in. Enough excuses though and because I am terrible at updating, I wrote a 9,000+ word chapter for all of you. Fluffy and angst included in the ending. **

**If people think Theon is OOC in this chapter, I just figured that he had never been spoken back to by a woman before and that'd probably anger him. Nor has he been brushed off by a woman, but know that he wouldn't have done anything drastic even if Jon wasn't there perhaps just scare her into thinking he is the macho man he tries to let everyone perceive him as.  
BUT, what do you think Jon's answer will be? How do you think it'll affect the story as it progresses? Can you guess who Gretchen is (the OC I'm putting Jon with)? I'd love to hear your predictions :)**

 **Side note, Catelyn is still hard for me to write (for whatever reason) so if you could give me any critiques and advice on writing her it'd be much appreciated! Thank you and I hope you've enjoyed the chapter (and the story so far) and look for my next chapter soon! Also, if you didn't know, I have another story of a Jon/OC with an entirely different character; The Crow & The Little Bird, because some people have a Iona/Jon ship going I thought I might mention this story.  
PS excuse the massive amounts of POV changes, I just wanted to add in new prospectives to the story and have you see what all is going on that Iona doesn't even know about. Look out for some Willard POV next chapter! xx **

**RHatch89: Thank you my dear! I'm glad you enjoyed the new installment ;)**

 **Guest: I'm glad you like the chemistry between Robb and Iona because I adore writing it. It's going very slowly, even with this kiss because Robb probably thinks he just ruined _everything_ by doing that and Iona is too scared to bring it up, but we'll see how everything progresses along ;) Thank you for taking the time to review and reading the story, you're absolutely amazing! I hope you've enjoyed the new chapter!**

 **Brilliant: Gods, I think the name Iona is so beautiful! I wish it was my name, alas it isn't! :( I'm glad you're liking the story so far and I hope you continue to read/enjoy it!**


	8. Eight: Cloudburst

**Of Hemlock and Wolves  
** _SyntheticProduct_

* * *

Longer Summary: People often forget that Hemlock is not just pretty and dainty, a small flower that is pleasing to the eye; it is poisonous, but when you plant them in abundance, it's deadly. Hemlock Grove got it's name for the deadly accuracy of their bowmen, for their trained warriors, but also known because they were almost neutral in every war. Natives of Hemlock Grove would say that it was as simple as they wanted peace, but others called them out on selfishness; berated them for it. Besides their ferocious talents, there was also a softer side to the town; they were simple lumberers and miners, crafting things from what they gathered and sold them as specialties. The Rhys family controlled Hemlock Grove, they have for more than a millennia since it was built with their own hands. From generation to generation, the land and it's keep (Bolete Keep) was passed down and handled accordingly, but now that Willard Rhys has his hands on it he plans to gain more and more for his family, even going as far as going into battle against House Targaryen. Now was the time of peace, but there is much more power to be gained. Especially through marriages of convenience.  
Robb/Iona; Theon/Sansa; Jon/Gretchen (another OC); Bethally/?

* * *

Chapter Eight: **Cloudburst**

* * *

The following morning, Iona awoke and insisted upon herself that yesterday was just a dream. Eleonora was by her side in a moment, busying herself with a bowl of warm rosewater and preparing Iona's dress for today. Iona watch lazily, her eyes following her handmaiden to and fro, as she curled into herself on the bed. Iona wished that she didn't have to part from her warmth of her bed today, or ever again, and half-hoped that the bed would open up a hole so she could crawl into it. Eleonora shook Iona slightly by the shoulder, earning a groan from her, but Iona sat up nonetheless; just because she felt terrible, didn't mean she needed everyone else to feel the same. Yawning, Iona parted from her bed and offered one more glance back before stripping down into her underclothes.

Eleonora wet a cloth with the rosewater and helped Iona freshen up a bit. Iona was able to slash some rosewater to her face and wipe away the tiredness before Eleonora helped her into her dress. It was a simple dress, a dark gray color with white fur lining the neck along the moderate neckline. It was a tad chilly out today, the sun was hiding behind ashen colored clouds and thunder could be heard not far off.

"What would you like to do today my Lady?" Eleonora questioned as Iona sat at her vanity with her eyes set straight into her seeing glass. Her skin had a certain pallor to it today and she had light dark circles beneath her eyes, "my Lady?" Eleonora pushed. Iona snapped her eyes up from her reflection to Eleonora's before smiling, "I have no idea, but a walk in the Godswood might do me some good."

Eleonora brushed through Iona's hair softly, "I think it's suppose to rain today my Lady, a walk in the Godswood might inadvertently turn bad; especially if we get stuck out there. Besides Lord Robb might call upon you today and you'll be in the Godswood." There was cheeky laughter on the part of Eleonora, but Iona felt her stomach bubble at the mention of Robb's name.

"I don't think Lord Robb will call upon me today; he's probably too busy with family and attending to the ceremony preparations." The lie seeped from between her teeth, but Iona kept a smile on her lips. Eleonora nodded her head, "Lord Robb is a very kind man, but he does seem to like to keep himself busy." A few more brush strokes through the curly mess that was Iona's hair, and Eleonora had started to braid it. It was a simple braid that was tossed over the right side of Iona's shoulder. Iona dipped her ring finger into the oyster shell that held her rouge and painted her lips a light red before rubbing some into her cheeks, so her the pallor didn't seem so off.

"Will you be going to break fast with the Starks then my Lady?" Iona felt queasy, thinking about having to sit beside Robb after yesterday's events, but knew that it was her duty to show up either way. She simply nodded her head as she slipped on her shoes as Eleonora opened the door for her. Ser Tern was stationed outside her door today and offered a wide smile.

"You look stunning as always my Lady, shall we go down to the dining hall then?" Iona smiled effortlessly at the compliment and nodded her head. Ser Tern clicked the back of his shoes together before standing up straight, but before leaving, Iona turned to Eleonora, "while I'm breaking fast, could you fetch a small basket?" Eleonora didn't question the request, "of course my Lady."

Iona left Eleonora and walked slowly as Ser Tern followed closely behind. Ser Tern had been with her family for what seemed like an eternity, but it had actually been less than five years. If she remembered correctly, Ser Tern was the baker's eldest son and he had three younger siblings. He never talked about them, or his parents, but then again he hardly spoke about himself.  
Ser Byron was different than Ser Tern, and because of those differences Iona realized that they hardly got along well.

"By the by, Ser Tern, after breaking fast Eleonora and I will be going to the Godswood; would you be so kind as to come with us?"

"I would be honored my Lady, but Ser Byron and I are switching out posts after you've broken fast." As much as she did enjoy Ser Tern's company, with his wide smile and his bubbling laughter, she knew that Eleonora would appreciate that Ser Byron was coming with them instead. Iona enjoyed hearing them talk together, and she was sure that Eleonora would be more excited to visit the Godswood now.

"Do you pray to the Old Gods, Ser Tern or the Seven?" There was a mix of that in Hemlock Grove. They didn't have a majority that prayed to either since they were not as far North as Winterfell, where the Old Gods were the primary religion. Eleonora for example prayed to the Seven, but was always pleasant when Iona wanted to pray in the Godswood. Ser Byron prayed to the Old Gods, but she was unsure of Ser Tern. He looked sheepish for a moment, "my family prayed to the Old Gods."

"And what of you?" Iona pressed.

"I pray to no Gods my Lady; I hope that doesn't offend you."

Iona smiled, "of course it doesn't offend me. You believe in what you believe in and I do the same; there is little difference between it." Ser Tern didn't respond, but Iona did see the start of what looked to be a smile on his lips. They walked in silence for moment more before Ser Tern opened the doors to the dining hall for her and reminded her that Ser Byron would be posted outside the dining hall once she returned.

The dining hall doors closed behind her and Iona was faintly aware that everyone had stopped talking before turning their gazes upon her. Swallowing the lump that grew in her throat, she glanced up and saw that Robb's chair was empty. Catelyn was smiling at her however, "you just missed Robb, he said that he had some letters to write after finished breaking his fast; Good morn to you though Iona, did you sleep well?" Iona made her way towards the head table before answering.

"Yes, very much so; the breeze was pleasant last night so I slept with the window open." Her heart had dropped into her stomach when Catelyn had explained that Robb had already departed, but tried to keep the pleasant smile on her face. Besides the fact, Iona had also lied; she hadn't slept well last night. In fact, dreams plagued her and she was awake even before the sun.

"I'm glad your chambers are suited well." Lord Stark commented, smiling as she sat down. A servant placed a plate of fresh fruits and eggs in from of her, with a piece of bread and a glass of cool milk. Iona stared down at her plate before looking towards Lord Stark, "they are very well suited for me, thank you." Sansa, whom sat on the other side of Lord Stark, smiled towards Iona which she returned.

"Do you have any plans for today, Lady Iona?"

"Actually, I was planning on going to the Godswood today."

"The weather is poorly, it might rain without a moments notice," Catelyn stated, "why don't I get Robb to escort you? He has a good sense of the weather." Iona's heart beat rapidly against her chest, "oh I couldn't ask him, especially if he has letters to write. Eleonora and Ser Byron will be escorting me."

"I can go with her mother," Iona glanced down at the small table which Bran and Rickon sat, "I was thinking of going there today anyways." Bran was speaking softly.

"I can go too!" Iona was surprised to hear Rickon shout, he didn't seem like would do that but Iona could help smiling. She clapped her hands together, "now I have two strong, handsome escorts; it'll be a lovely time I'm sure." She saw Rickon giggle quietly while Bran smiled up at her. She hadn't spent too much time with the two youngest Starks, but she was glad to. Children were always something that made her feel better, especially when she felt down.

Breaking fast went by quickly and quietly, but Iona could still feel the emptiness of the chair beside her. Eventually, Iona finished and before she could even rise from her chair Bran and Rickon were at her side. Bran helped pull back her chair and Rickon stood off slightly to the side, smiling.

"My what a gentleman you are, thank you." When she stood and glanced down, she noted that Bran had pink cheeks and was looking down.

"Now children, be good and listen to Iona while you're out there." Iona didn't notice it before, but her father was not breaking fast with them this morning.

"I didn't notice it earlier, but where is my father?"

"He said he had important business to attend to regarding your dowry." Lord Stark replied as he sipped his goblet. Iona was felt to wonder what _exactly_ that meant, but asked no further questions, "of course." She replied before following the two boys out the dining hall doors. Ser Byron was stationed outside and Eleonora was waiting beside him, a large smile on her lips. She had with her the tiny basket that Iona asked her to get, it was just the size to fit a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread. Although, that wasn't was Iona was going to use it for, for today. Eleonora gazed down at the two small boys in front of Iona and looked questioningly towards her.

"These two gentlemen will be escorting us to the Godswood." Iona explained, placing a hand on Bran's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze while she lovingly pet Rickon's mane of hair. The little one giggled quietly while shooing Iona's hand from his head.

"Thank you my Lords." Eleonora said graciously before curtseying before them. She handed Iona the basket, "as you requested Lady Iona." Iona showed her thanks with a nod of her head and took the basket into her possession. Bran looked on with a confused glint in his eyes, "what is that for Lady Iona?" Iona couldn't help but chuckle and feel slightly embarrassed, "whenever I go see the weirwood, I always collect flowers to place at the roots before praying." It was something that her Septa had done and Iona had picked it up as a child, "a thanks for them watching over those I care deeply about." Bran seemed satisfied with the answer and Rickon was silent, which Iona deemed usual for the child. They set off towards the Godswood, with small chatter between them.

"What is Hemlock Grove like?" Bran asked, "I've heard things from my father and from what others have said about it, but nothing from the source." Iona smiled and thought for a moment, "Bolete Keep is an imposing sight for sure, but I would not say that it is grander than Winterfell. We had spirals and towers that come from the blackened stone, something that took ten years each to make," Bran listened on quietly, "my Grandfather added on a small addition to the castle which took his entire lifetime to seen finished; giant barracks for our soldiers and the guard towers that sit high upon the walls surrounding the town."

"A wall?" Rickon asked, his voice was quiet and Iona had to strain her ears to hear him speak. Iona nodded her head and smiled down at him as he looked up in wonder.

"Yes, there is a giant wall surrounding the entirety of Hemlock Grove. It was built over a thousand years, or so the tale goes. There is maintenance kept up on it, but it strong. There is even stone that was a gift from the Targaryens because of the support our family showed, and before that the wall was built using the stone from our mines and our quarry."

Bran and Rickon seemed to be both enthralled by the story, "so the Targaryens liked your family?"

Iona hummed quietly as they walked, "Liked or perhaps a better word is trusted, before Aerys the second. My father knew the Mad King, but once he started to delve into madness my father had stopped all connection with the Targaryens and shortly after that, the civil war had begun and Aerys the second was killed."

"By the Kingslayer!" Bran said excitedly, "stabbed in the back by his own kingsguard." Iona nodded.

"But before Aerys the second, my family had close connections with the Targaryens. My grandfather knew Aegon the Fifth, he even considered him a friend. Before my grandfather died, he swore that the Rhys family would always help protect their family; he swore a vow to him and his family."

"But it was broken." Bran connected the dots that Iona left. Iona nodded her head sadly, "Of course I have no memory of these tales since I wasn't born yet, but my father has spoken about them in detail. He almost seems sad to talk about it, probably because he might have considered Aerys the second a friend." By the time that Iona had finished talking about the connection between her family and the Targaryens, they had reached the Godswood and had entered it. Iona was amazed by the different selection of trees that were situated in the Godswood and how colorful it all was. Iona stopped short when Rickon pulled on her dress sleeve. Puzzled, she looked down and saw that he was pointing to her right.

A small meadow of flowers were situated between the trees, flowers of almost every color. Iona squatted down to Rickon's height and placed a small kiss on his cheek, "thank you little one, I would've completely forgotten," Rickon's cheeks were a bright red as Iona pulled back and she couldn't help but smile, "will you help me pick some flowers?" Iona glanced over her shoulder, "you too Bran, will you help me?"

The two boys nodded and without a second thought, Iona pulled up her dress and traipsed through the muddied soil and began picking flowers. Rickon went farther into the marshy soil and began to pick some of the dainty, white flowers that were puffing up through the ground. Bran looked lost for a moment before bending over and picking at some pink laurel flowers. Eleonora and Ser Byron stayed back on the dirt road that led through the Godswood, watching as the three picked flowers and chatted amongst themselves.

"She'll make a good mother one day, you know." Ser Byron breathed out as he glanced over to Eleonora. Eleonora watched on with a smile and a warmth deep in her chest, "yes, I think she will."

It was only a few moments later when Iona, Bran, and Rickon came out from the meadow with an over flowing basket of flowers. Iona chuckled, "the Gods will be happy to receive these beautiful flowers, hopefully they will appreciate the color."

"I think the Gods are happy enough when people pray to them and hear their concerns and doubts," Bran said as they began to walk again, "but I suppose bringing gifts from time to time will also make them feel appreciated."

"My Septa told me that bringing flowers before the Old Gods help not them to remember, but also us to remember, that humans as well as Gods, are connected to nature." Iona brought the basket closer to her stomach, "and she also told me that remembering the Gods are enough to make them happy." Iona looked down at Rickon again and smiled to see him have a skip in his step. She held out her hand to him, "will you escort me through the muddy road? My shoes are getting stuck, I'm afraid I might trip." Rickon nodded, a serious expression playing out on his face before he took her hand within his. Iona smiled brightly, "thank you Lord Rickon." That earned her a giggle from him.

As the two walked hand in hand, Bran walked on the other side of Iona, "so I've heard about the history of the Rhys family and the Keep, what of the town?" Iona smiled as she remembered her home, "the town is beautiful. The townsfolk are friendly and kind, they help each other out just as they help my family. There are many children in Hemlock Grove, and they love to play. They play in the river that runs through the town and they play in the orchards, they even hold competitions."

"Competitions?"

"Ah yes," she remembered telling Arya about them, "they shoot apples with bows and arrows, sometimes so far that all you see is a speck of red."

"Really?" Bran asked, "I've been practicing my archery; I'm not that great, but I'm not totally terrible." Iona smiled at his humbleness, "then you'd love it there I would suspect."

"What do they do in the river?"

Iona laughed quietly, "in the hot months they swim in it, and they catch frogs in the shallow waters. Some fish in it as well, or put their feet in it."

"Catch frogs?"

Iona was reminded of the time she spoke to Robb about this and flinched, "yes, catching frogs with their bare hands. They don't harm them, but it is a little game that the children play..." Iona felt her breath leave her as they entered a clearing. The white bark and reddened leaves gave way that they had reached the weirwood. The face that was carved into the wood seemed to look directly at her. Rickon tugged on her hand, "let's go put the flowers down." Iona nodded her head as her eyes never left the weirwood. She could hear the rustles of the leaves and a crisp sound of water moving from the wind. Bran lead them down by the roots of the weirwood and Iona settled on the ground.

"My Lady! You'll dirty your dress." Eleonora scolded slightly. Iona glanced back and smiled, "a dress is nothing in comparison to the Gods." Taking the basket from her hands, she set it down in front of the weirwood before laying out the flowers against the roots. She closed her eyes and began to pray. She prayed for many things; the health of her family, the health of the Starks, and then her mind wandered to Robb. She prayed selfishly and asked the Gods to grant her the will to speak to Robb of what happened. She prayed for the health of Eleonora, Ser Tern, and Ser Byron. She prayed that whoever was trying to kill her would be brought to justice. She prayed for the soul of Ser Reese, the man that attacked her, and when her thoughts reached that point she unconsciously slid her hand to her throat.

"Are you okay Lady Iona?" Batting her eyes open, she looked to her right and saw that Bran was also kneeling on the ground in front of the weirwood. Iona's hand slid from her neck as Bran's eyes trained on the raised skin of her wound. He looked like he understood in that moment what she was most likely praying for, but said nothing else. Iona smiled at him and looked up at the weirwood, tentatively touching the roots and saying her thanks aloud.  
As her hand retreated from the roots, a loud clash of thunder made the hairs on her neck stand on end. It was still far away, but the sound interrupted her thoughts before Ser Byron raised his voice.

"Who goes there?"

Iona turned around and breathed out a sigh of relief, a wide smile broke onto her lips, "Hello Jon, is anything the matter?" Jon stood at the edge of the clearing, a sort of odd facial expression clouded over him, but he looked like he shook free of it when he began walking towards them, "Lord Stark asked me to check on Bran and Rickon, as well as you. The clouds are starting to move over the North and we're expecting a rainstorm." Iona glanced up at the sky and saw that the ashen clouds were indeed making their fast descent on Winterfell. Rickon's hand slipped into her own as he frowned, "I hate thunder." He whispered quietly. Iona's smile tugged into a frown as she raised their interlocked hands to her back before she placed a delicate kiss on the back of his wrist, "then we should get going, shouldn't we?" She turned towards Bran, who looked happy to see his half-brother, "shall we go back then, Bran?"

"It is as Jon says, the clouds are moving fast. I don't know whether we'll make it back to the keep before it rains."

Iona chuckled, "then it rains upon us."

Bran stood from his spot and before Iona had a chance to stand as well, he offered his hand out to her. She gladly took it and used his body weight as leverage as she pulled not only herself up, but Rickon as well. She hadn't noticed, but his eyes were trained on the sky above them. He shook, even Iona could feel it between their hands. She smiled to herself and turned towards him before picking up his body with her arms, holding him as his arms looped around her neck.

"Don't tell please." Rickon whispered in her ear, his head burying at the junction of her neck and shoulder as his body shook slightly. Iona pet his hair down and cooed quietly, "never."

"My Lady - " Jon began to speak, but Iona shook her head and smiled, "he's tired, I'll hold him until we get back to the keep and besides he hardly weighs a thing."

"My Lady, then you'll grow tired as well and then where will that get us?" Eleonora asked.

Iona smiled as she patted Rickon's back, "I've carried around Travan for hours on end, I don't think that the walk back to the keep will tire me out that quickly." Iona gave Eleonora a ' _please go along with it_ ' kind of glance and Eleonora sighed, but nodded her head. Iona smiled and began walking with Bran at her side.

"You don't have to carry him Lady Iona, he's big enough to walk by himself." Bran stated as he looked between the two of them. Rickon was definitely heavier than Travan, but she wasn't going to give Eleonora nor Jon the satisfaction in knowing they were right. Iona shook her head and brushed back the hair from Rickon's face, "if you were tired, I would carry you too. I would carry Eleonora, or anyone. Sometimes, even if you're big, you need a little help or a little comfort." Iona placed a hand over Rickon's ear, seeing as the other was pressed against her shoulder and his face was in the crook of her neck, just as thunder shook the skies and a quick flash of lightning took over.

"If you get tired Lady Iona, I can take over for you." Jon recommended as he walked just behind her. Iona nodded her head, "if I tire, you'll be the first to know." She shifted Rickon's weight so he was sitting on the crease of her hip before replacing her hand over his ear. It seemed to work because he stopped trembling, but was softly whimpering into the skin of her neck. She shushed him with cooes and placed a kiss over his bangs, smiling, "don't worry, I've got you Rickon." It was less than a whisper, but it seemed to relax him as his arms that were loosely hung over her back gave her a tight squeeze.

"What did you do when you were younger?" Bran asked, breaking the silence as they walked through the Godswood, back towards the keep. Iona shifted Rickon up more before responding, "I helped my father a lot, learning how to take over as the head of the Rhys family, and reading. I didn't have many friends because when I was younger since there were not that many families with children. When my sister was born we were attached at the hip, but as she grew older we drifted apart."

"What's your sister like?" Even from back were Eleonora was, Iona could've sworn she felt her freeze. Iona chuckled, "my sister can be nasty when she wants to be, but she does have a considerate soul. She likes playing the flute and enjoys parties. Bethally can be a handful, but I think every sibling thinks that of their other siblings," Iona thought for a moment before continuing, "ah, she's also a very good archer. My father insisted that all his children learned how to defend themselves in some manner."

"Then, how do you know how to defend yourself?"

Iona laughed a little louder than she usually would, "I wasn't very good at anything to be honest. The best I did was with my own two fists, but my father discontinued hand-to-hand when I managed to hurt my wrist."

"I've never known a Lady that knew how to fight hand-to-hand." Bran said quietly, looking at her from her feet to her head.

"Then I'm glad I'm the first you've met. You probably won't ever see a demonstration of it however," Iona chuckled, "there are a lot of dirty tricks in hand-to-hand you know. Like headbutting, or sideswiping, or even throwing dirt in your opponent's face; if it keeps you alive, then use it."

Finally they cleared the Godswood, but it had started to drizzle, "that doesn't sound honorable." Bran stated.

"There is nothing honorable about fighting, or war for that matter; it only matters who wins and who loses." Iona remembered her father telling her the same thing when she was younger. Her father never cared for fighting or for war, but he cared about living and about those he cared about, those were the things that mattered. It mattered who won and who lost, and most importantly: which side you were on. It was the same when her father finally couldn't refuse Lord Stark's call to aid during the civil war because he knew that Aerys the second, the Mad King, was going to lose and because he was on the winning side he wasn't called _Oathbreaker_. Iona had to wonder if her father wasn't called Oathbreaker, for breaking the death oath her grandfather made, and why Jaime Lannister was called _Kingslayer_ when he ultimately helped win the civil war.

It was quiet between Bran and Iona after her comment. She was half-hoping that he was thinking about her words and not how foolish she sounded. As the rain slowly stopped being a drizzle and came down harder, they had finally reached the keep and entered with little worry. Thunder shook the skies and lighting lit it up, but Rickon stayed still in her arms.

"Ser Byron, can you please escort Eleonora back to her chambers?"

"My Lady?"

Iona smiled towards the confused duo, "I was going to go lay Rickon down so he could take a nap and regain some energy. Don't worry, maybe Jon and Bran can also escort me?" She passed her smile from the confused duo to the sibling duo. Jon nodded his head, "I can promise that I'll escort Lady Iona back to her chambers afterwards as well." Bran nodded as well, "I'll accompany him too!" Bran's smile was so wide and so bright that Iona could help but sigh in relief.

Eleonora looked at Iona with understanding eyes, "of course my Lady, I'll see you back at your room." Ser Byron nodded his head before turning towards the stairs to lead Eleonora back to her chambers. Bran smiled to himself, "you don't know where Rickon's room is, do you?" Iona laughed, "you've caught me, I don't."

"Don't worry, I'll lead you there!" Bran's voice grew louder as he spoke over a roll of thunder. Iona smiled and started to pat Rickon's back in a slight rhythm. He started to grow heavier as Bran lead her to Rickon's chambers and Iona knew that Rickon had fallen asleep. His soft snores tickled her ear as they walked. Jon was following behind at a slower walk while Bran led her through the corridors before settling upon one door. He opened it with a pushed and lead them inside. The room was darkened by the fact that the shutters on the window had been closed from the inside, but streams of grey light filtered through. His bed as big as her own, but his sheets were colored a dark brown with a fur blankets that was made of spotted gray fur. The fire was a dark amber glow on the room, partly because the fire was dying. There were numerous amounts of toys that were scattered throughout the room, but Iona couldn't help but smile at the fact that the wooden wolf she had given him was laying on the opposite pillow on his bed.

Iona carefully sat on the edge of the bed before leaning his body back to the blankets. He groaned, but rolled over before Iona sat up and tucked him in with the blankets. She leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead before leaving the room with Bran and Jon.

When the door shut quietly, Iona spoke to Bran: "will you go tell your mother that Rickon is resting in his room? I'd deeply appreciate it." Bran looked between Jon and Iona before nodding his head, "yes, I can do that. It was really nice talking to you, next time I'll have to show you how I climb!"

"Climb?" Iona asked, confused.

"Yeah! I climb the walls and the trees, it's really exciting!" Iona chuckled quietly and nodded her head, "I'd love to see you climb a tall tree, or the wall. As long as you're very careful."

"I always am!" Bran parted from them with a wave of his head before jogging down the corridor. Iona waved back and sighed quietly, momentarily forgetting that Jon was standing beside her.

"Tired?" His voice jostled her from her thoughts and her eyes were torn from Bran's retreating back so they met Jon's. She smiled and nodded slightly, "that and I don't know if I have the heart to watch Bran climb the wall. My heart might stop if I see him climbing so high." Like deep seated bells high in a tower, Jon's laugh rang out.

"Don't worry, Bran is very careful; he hasn't fallen even once."

"Yes, well if he falls and I see it, I do believe I'll faint."

* * *

Several days passed since her journey out to the Godswood, several days of avoidance on part of her betrothed; several days of Iona smiling and pretending that everything was alright. Catelyn Stark had questioned her several times over, perhaps a little more than fourteen times a day, even Arya had asked her more than a few times. Lately she had been spending her days either in the loneliness of her room with the pestering of Eleonora, or in Sansa's drawing room with her friend, Jeyne Poole, working on their individual embroidering projects. Sometimes Arya would call upon her to demonstrate the ferocity of her throwing daggers. Bran had finally corralled her into watching him climb; he was quick, but careful and it probably didn't help matters that she kept calling up to him be careful. Rickon had visited her more than once with a few books, reading to her as worked on her embroidering project. Sometimes she read to him and sometimes they went out on walks together. But never Robb, never once did he ask for her. She had caught his eye on more than one occasion, which wasn't difficult considering they sat next to each other when they broke fast and supper and besides the Keep had little places to hide hours on end. The other factor was that Jon had taken to escorting her hither and dither while Robb was constantly looking for him; to talk, was his excuse.

Eleonora pinned Iona's hair into an elegant bun, braided segments wove throughout and a few curls framed Iona's face. Iona's head threatened to tip backwards from the weight shift, but she kept her head high. Today the Stark's bannermen would be arriving since the wedding ceremony was only a few days away and while the next few days would be filled with celebration, it also gave them the time to scrutinize them. Her father's friends had arrived the day previous, all of them she knew by name and all of them offered their congratulations on a splendid wedding proposal. Even when her mother and sister arrived, with little Travan in tow, Iona was ecstatic.

 _Iona waited outside in the muddied courtyard, the trim of her dress soaked in mud like a rag to water. She shifted from one foot to the other as her father stood beside her while the Stark family stood behind them. She gazed at Robb through the corner of her eye and watched as he stared forward, never even glancing her way; it made an empty spot rise in her chest. When she heard horse hooves drawing close and the yelling of the Stark's gate keepers: "Open the gates! Lady Rhys has arrived!" the empty spot turned into goo. She wondered why her mother would think once she saw her, or even if Travan remembered her. It hadn't been terribly long since she'd seen him, but the worry consumed her. Bethally was an entirely different story, she knew that her sister had a dislike for her since Iona was shown more attention as the first born, and the simple fact that Bethally cared more for their mother's company than her own spoke levels.  
_ _When three horses rode in, each carrying their own rider, and the carriage following behind after a short while, Iona could feel her heart pick up in speed. Once the carriage had come to a stop, one of the riders stepped down from their horse and opened the carriage door. They lent her mother their arm as she lowered herself from the carriage. Her dark graying hair was swooped up into an elegant bun that had a few braids woven into it. She wore one of her better dresses, a dark purple one that had dark trimmed lace hanging from the sleeves and a high neckline. She turned back towards the carriage and raised her arms up and Iona simply melted when she saw her brother's face. He had gained a little weight since she last saw him, his cheeks were filled out and were red from the cold. His eyes were wide and looking around him, always curious. Her mother stepped off towards the side as Bethally descended from the carriage.  
_ _Bethally's pin straight hair was brushed over her shoulder with a small headdress made of silver metal shining in her hair. She had outlined her eyes with coal and painted her lips with red rouge. Iona glanced down at her sister's dress and realized it was brand new; her father wouldn't like that. It was a light forest-green color with gold grim, but the sleeves were short while lace ran down her arms in billowy sleeves. Iona looked towards her father and saw his red cheeks; yes, he definitely didn't know about it._

 _"Mother!" Iona said excitedly as the rest of her family neared. She watched her mother give her a small smile, one that tugged at her cheeks and made Iona identify it as fake. Her heart stutter a bit when she realized that, but it didn't stop her from smiling, "it is good to see you again!" Travan looked at her with wide eyes before he reached out his arms to her: "NONA!" If her mother hadn't been holding him well, he might've simply fallen from her arms from the aggressive way he lunged towards Iona. Instead of putting up a fight, her mother handed Travan over to Iona who took him with no thought. She brought her lips to each of his cheeks multiple times before hugging him to her chest. He giggled happily and hugged back, giving her sloppy kisses to her cheeks and nose before pulling back, "Nona, miss you." Iona's throat tightened before she pulled him back into their embrace and responding: "Nona missed you too Travan, and Nona loves you lots and lots."_

 _A quiet clearing of their throat and Iona saw Bethally standing before her with her arms crosses over her chest, "where's my welcome?" She asked smartly, smiling more to herself than towards Iona. Iona shifted Travan to her hip and brought herself down to Bethally, wrapping her shoulders in a hug, "welcome to Winterfell my dear sister."_

Eleonora helped Iona slip into a dark green gown that glittered soft white lace around the neck and at the ends of her sleeves. The corset was tighter than Iona had, had it before and Iona's breath caught in her throat.

"Is everything to your liking, my Lady?" Eleonora's voice was soft and welcome; sometimes Iona was too caught in her head and Eleonora brought her back. Iona smiled carefully, "yes, the hairstyle is what I would've worn in Hemlock Grove and the dress is stunning." The dress in question was one that Iona had prepared before leaving her hometown, specially requested just for today. The green made her eyes stand out from her ever-darkening hair and the white lace was stark against it. Bethally was quite jealous that their father had allowed her to get a new dress to be made, but it was made especially for today.

"From my understanding my Lady, your father will come to escort you down to break fast before Lord Robb escorts you out to the courtyard to greet the first of the Stark's bannermen." The mere mention of Robb's name made Iona's throat tighten and it took a few deep breaths before she stilled her heaving chest. Eleonora's hands were warm on her back as she soothed Iona, slowly and thoughtfully. She hadn't told Eleonora what exactly happened between her and Robb, but instead gave the excuse that she _must've offended him somehow;_ that was the lie that Iona kept repeating in her mind and she gradually began to believe it.

* * *

 _Eleonora_

Slowly, but surely Lady Iona's breath began to become normal again. Most times it worried Eleonora to no end that there was something with her Lady's health that she couldn't quite place. She approached the Stark's maester, Maester Luwin, casually with questions about her Lady's health; she described the symptoms and how Lady Iona reacted to it, when it happened - anything that she thought would help. Maester Luwin just smiled and told her not to worry too much, that it was bad health of emotions; that strong emotions triggered the labored breathing and throwing up. He equated it with being _overly nervous_ and that her body didn't know what to do with the excess of stress. He told her that hot tea and comforting actions would help the most.

When Eleonora's hands retreated from Lady Iona's back, she noticed that her Lady curled into herself; holding her chest with both hands as she wheezed. Quickly, and with shaking hands, she poured a warm cup of tea, and presented it to Lady Iona. She grasped it with both hands, the tea almost sloshing out from the force of her shaking, before bringing it to her lips.  
Eleonora continued to rub circles on her back as she drank, and slowly her breathing became normal again.

"Better, my Lady?" Eleonora spoke quietly, choosing her words carefully as Lady Iona drank the rest of her tea. As she placed the cup down on the vanity, Lady Iona's face paled, "get the chamber pot."

"My Lady?" Eleonora questioned.

"The chamber pot, grab it."

Eleonora did as she was commanded and placed the chamber pot on her Lady's lap before Lady Iona expelled the contents of her stomach into it. Eleonora's chest clenched as she rubbed Lady Iona's neck, shushing her as she started to cry softly. This was almost normal for the past several days, and Eleonora had a feeling that it had to deal with Robb Stark, the Lordling of Winterfell. It wasn't obvious at first, but as soon as his name was brought up, Iona became like this. Lady Iona excused it as she was nervous because she offended Lord Robb, but Eleonora had a hard time picturing Lady Iona offending any one intentionally.

Eleonora grabbed the chamber pot and placed it on the side table when Lady Iona seemed to calm. Eleonora grasped a damp cloth that she had used to help Lady Iona wipe down her face earlier, and did the same. The cool water helped Lady Iona physically calm, even her nervous eyes seemed to soften.

That was the moment that there was a knock at the door. Eleonora wiped down her Lady's with a dry cloth before answering the door. Lord Willard Rhys was standing just beyond the door, looking quite fresh in his fur embroidered clothes and his hair slicked back by what only Eleonora could guess was fish oil since it smelled quite _potent_.

"Girl, fetch my daughter we're nearly late for breaking fast with the Starks on this important day."

Eleonora grimaced at the way he spoke to her, not out right, but she could feel it building up so she quickly turned away to fetch Lady Iona. Lady Iona was already standing, a small smile on her lips.

* * *

 _Iona_

"Good morn, father," Iona said quietly as she hooked her arm within his, "is the weather well?" Truth be told, she couldn't bare to look outside and see the bustle of the Keep because then it made everything seem too real, too soon. Her father scoffed and started to walk, Ser Byron following close behind them, "didn't care to look outside, did you?" Iona wanted to shrink back from his voice, sounding disappointed and condescending at the same time. Instead of replying, Iona looked away and found that the walls of Winterfell were quite interesting. Silence flowed between them and only the echoing of her father's walking stick filled the corridors.

"You look quite beautiful," her father whispered, startling Iona, "I'm glad we had that made for you before we left. Hemlock Grove's fashions look best on you." Iona shifted her hand slightly, grasping his arm tightly with appreciation for the compliment, "thank you father."

He grunted in return before they carefully made their way down the steps, more concerned about his steps than his daughter's. Of course, Ser Byron helped Iona down the steps with a steady hand on her back. When they reached the end of the steps, her father gathered her arm in his once again. He leaned heavily on his walking stick as the cobble became uneven and even Iona braced herself straight so her father could garner more leverage. Ever since Iona could remember, she always did that; pulling her weight away from him so he could walk straighter and stand a little prouder. Ser Byron sighed from behind and Iona risked a peek back towards him, watching as he gave her a small smile. She returned it.

"Ser Byron, go open the doors will you?" Iona asked kindly before he nodded, walking around the lumbering couple and opening the doors to the dinning hall. Of course, all the decorations were set in place and the extra tables for their guests had been set out. Her eyes unconsciously sought out Robb's as they entered, but his sight never met hers. The door closed behind them as Lord Stark greeted them, "Good morn to you both, I hope that you have rested well."

Her father snorted short a chortle, "my daughter's nerves are getting the better of her unfortunately, but that is to be expected." Iona felt her face pale and redden at the same time as her hands twisted the skin on her father's arm, but he paid no mind to her. Catelyn offered her a sweet smile, "as to be expected of the bride." Iona glanced at her father as they made their way towards the table.

"My wife is settling with our boy while my youngest daughter is experiencing some exhaustion from their travels, so they won't be joining us to break our fast this morn." Iona smiled to herself at her father's explanation; she was just happy to see her family all together again. Iona left her father's side and watched as Robb stood from his chair to help her be seated. She muttered her thanks before sitting, letting him glide her chair in. She glanced down at her plate, ignoring the food for now and instead sipped on the water that was nestled beside her plate.

"Are you nervous?" Iona's heart fluttered at the voice she longed to hear. With a downcast glance, she shot a look over to her betrothed and watched as his eyes didn't meet hers. Her heart stilled, "quite. I don't know many people that will be attending the ceremony, and..." Iona trailed off; _I haven't spoke to you in days, that makes me even more nervous_. Is what she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue.

"I'm nervous as well," he smiled tenderly, but not at her, "may I discuss something with you after breaking fast?"

Again her heart fluttered and she couldn't help but internally screaming at it to stop, "of course." Her appetite shrunk more if possible, but she managed to get down a few grapes and berries. She drank more and more water, the servants scurried to fill her cup every time. She picked at her eggs as she snuck glances at Robb; part of her wanted to be finished and talk to him, but another part of her wanted to keep waiting and waiting. She leaned back against the chair and sighed.

"Are you finished?"

* * *

 _Robb_

His fingers tapped impatiently against his leg as he glanced from the corner of his eye towards Iona. As soon as she entered the hall, it felt like his eyes were simply tied to her, but that was nothing new. In the past several days, her figure was the first he saw in the crowds of people; his eyes always followed her retreating back, but this was different. She sat next to him, similar to every morning, but she wasn't smiling. A frown tugged at the corners of his lips because he _knew_ why she wasn't smiling; he had done something incredibly stupid, anyone would be angry with him if he did what he had done to them.  
He watched closely as she sipped at her water, watching as her throat pushed the water down, and watched as she reached for another red colored berry before stilling her hand. His eyes caught hers and she smiled, "are you ready to speak now? I'm finished."

Robb pushed his chair away from the table before helping Iona from hers. He offered his hand to her and she seemed stunned for a moment, but she took it nonetheless. The pleasant feeling of her soft hands in his was something he missed dearly. She stood from her place before rounding the table with him, and they both took a moment to exchange words with his parents, "I have something I was hoping to discuss with Iona privately, it won't take long."

"Where will you be?" His father questioned, a smile playing on his lips.

"The library, it isn't far from here and it'll offer the privacy we need. Of course," Robb directed this comment towards Lord Rhys, "Ser Byron will accompany us." Lord Rhys looked less than pleased, but waved dismissively.

"As long as you're both back to greet all those blessing your wedding, I could care less." Robb offered forth a tight lipped smile before leading Iona from the dinning hall. Ser Byron was standing outside the doors and gave him a curious look, "we'll be going to the library, if you can escort us?" Ser Byron shared a look with Iona, but she only smiled, "please Ser Byron."

"Of course my Lady, my Lord."

As Robb and Iona walked towards the library, there was silence. Robb wanted to desperately break the silence, but his tongue felt swollen and dry inside of his mouth. Their interlocked hands felt ticklish, but that was only because his hands were beginning to sweat. Instead of bringing them apart, he squeezed her hand. Iona squeezed back, softly, and Robb looked towards her. She looked elegant with her braided updo, only a few curls framing her face and a tint of red rouge to her lips. Her green eyes seemed to burn into him and from the fluttering of her dark lashes to the small smile on her face; he felt truly grateful.  
When they reached the library, Ser Byron stayed stationed outside the doors and then suddenly Robb was alone with Iona. His heart felt like a hammer on an anvil, but he was determined.

After speaking to Jon a few days ago, he knew that he owed her.

 _"You know, she seems more down than usual; you wouldn't have anything to do with that Robb?" Jon's face was stoic and Robb avoided Jon's eyes, but they seemed to pinpoint his. Robb smoothed back his auburn curls from his face, huffing loudly, "of course not."_

 _"Lady Iona seems like a truly happy woman, always smiling and always kind, but recently it seems like her thoughts occupy her more than the people around her," Jon looked like he was trying to study his half-brother's face, "and you never call upon her anymore." Robb wanted to curse Jon's uncharacteristically nosiness, but didn't. Jon was worried. Jon was worried about her. About him. Robb sighed deeply, "so there is something wrong." Jon concluded softly. He sat down next to Robb, taking Robb's shoulder in his hand before patting it, "it's best if you just apologize for it, whatever it is. It's making neither of you happy, and besides you seem to smile more around her; that's always a good thing."_

"What did you want to discuss Lord Robb?" Her formality made him wince back, but it didn't deter him. He cleared his throat and took both of her hands in his. He watched her face contorted into deep confusion, lines appeared between her brows and her lips went into a firm pout. Robb nearly broke in laughter, she did have a very expressive face. His thumbs ran over the hills of her knuckles as he swallowed his nerves, "I wanted to apologize," Iona stayed quiet and listened carefully, "for what I did in this very place," he glanced around the library with a wary gaze, "and then ignoring you because of my own selfish anger - at myself - I hope you can forgive me in that regard." Robb's eyes were focused on her hands and for moments there was silence. Finally, the courage puckered up within him and he looked up. Iona's lips had remained in a firm pout, but the lines were gone and her eyes had begun to water.

"I didn't mean to worry you, not at all, not in anyway; I'm very sorry."

She slipped her hands away from his and there was a sudden pit in his stomach. He felt her eyes with his as her hands went to either side of his face, running along the shell of his ear and against the stubble on his cheeks before she softly brought his face down to hers. Iona pressed her forehead against his, her thumbs running along his cheeks before she spoke, "I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry about the kiss, I... I enjoyed it. I hope you did too."

Heat ran down his sternum as she spoke, and the sudden need to kiss her again ran over him. Using one hand, he tilted her chin up towards him. There were indeed tears falling from her eyes, glistening her evergreen eyes like the water of a lake. Robb leaned down, watching as her eyes fluttered close and he placed a kiss on both eyelids, wiping away the tears. "May I kiss you again?" His voice was a deathly whisper, but he felt her nod her head slowly. Slowly and softly, Robb pressed his lips against hers.  
Shuttering at the gentle feeling of her against him, his hand left her chin and traced back to her neck as he held her steady. Her hands left his face as well, lacing her arms loosely behind his neck as she drew him in closer.

Taking the base of her skull within his hand, Robb brought her closer so her chest was pressed up against his and she audibly gasped. Her nails grazed against the back of his neck as she squirmed in his grasp. It was intoxicating in a way, making Robb crave more. Tentatively Robb nipped at her lips before brazenly kissing her with more force as she whined. He avoided tangling his fingers in her hair, but the way she arched into him he couldn't help but run his fingers up her neck.  
Robb shivered as her fingers played with the wisps of the ends of his curls, pulling gently on them.

When they broke apart, the rouge that had tinted Iona's lips were smeared against the edges of the skin surrounding her lips. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, but Robb's eyes were trained on her swollen lips. He tore his gaze away as he licked his lips.  
Iona's chuckle brought his eyes back to hers. She licked her thumb before running it over his lips, "you have a bit of rouge on you now."

Stopping her suddenly, he grasped her wrist in his hand before kissing the tips of her fingers, "I also enjoyed the kiss, I am sorry for being so childish." Iona's laugh was breathless as she drew closer to Robb once again, "I promise to stop you if you ever offend my honor Robb." She leaned on the tips of her toes, brining her hand back to her as she pecked his lips.

"I'm glad I apologized." Robb wrapped his arms around the slim of her waist, pulling her into an embrace, and felt the over-whelming need to nuzzle into the crook of her neck; that was one thing that he would not be doing right now. Iona braced herself against his chest with the palms of her hands, "I wanted to say something to you, but I was sure you hated me."

"I could never hate you, especially not with that face." Robb didn't want to admit it out loud, but she looked adorable as she looked up at him through her eyelashes and her lips parted. She gave him a sweet smile before leaning against him and letting her hands wrap around him. She hummed in agreement, "I'm afraid that is also the truth for me, so don't go and break my heart Robb Stark."

"Never."

Robb placed a kiss atop her head, breathing in her scent; rosewater and grapes, with the tiniest hint of burning wood. He pulled back at the sound of someone knocking at the door, and watched as Iona wiped away the rouge around her lips with the tips of the fingers he had kissed not a moment earlier. The door opened and revealed a nervous looking Ser Byron, "House Mormonts flags have been seen in the distance; Lord Stark has called upon both of you to escort yourselves to the courtyard." Robb nodded vigorously before offering his arm to Iona, "my Lady." His heart swelled at the sight of her smile shining up at him as she laced her arm with his, "my Lord." Her laugh was like a dozen of tiny bells. They left the library and Robb noticed that Jon was standing on the other side of the doorway with a half-hidden smile that told Robb _I told you so_.

* * *

 _Iona_

Waiting in the courtyard was nerve wracking. She had met a few of the house heads of the Stark's bannermen no more than once. Maege Mormont was not one of those house heads. She had heard stories of the Lady Warrior and the famed ferocity in which she fought. Being no warrior herself, Iona was left to wonder if Lady Mormont would look down at her in displeasure, especially since Lady Mormont had several daughters; some within age of Robb. She hadn't heard about any proposals between the Starks and Mormonts, but if there were they would be held silent if the Starks declined her offer.

"Open the gates! Lady Mormont has arrived!" The gates opened with little resistance and soon after a few horses entered, but no carriage. Iona stared up at the Lady would had ridden in on nothing more than a stallion that had a coat of jet black. She was a stout woman with long, braided grey hair and harsh eyes. She wasn't dressed in a gown, but rather riding mail that was chained with iron. She gracefully got off her horse with no help and was taking off a pair of riding gloves as she neared the Starks. Before Lord Stark, she lowered to one knee.

"Lord Stark." Iona was not surprised to her a weathered voice call out, but she was surprised when Lady Mormont met with Lord Stark's eyes.

Lord Stark chuckled deeply in his throat, "rise Lady Mormont, you do not bend a knee to me." There were no complaints from her as she rose, shifting her eyes over the line of Stark children, stopping as they landed on her. She clasped hands with Lord Stark for a moment, "a glorious occasion when one of our children get married, is it not?" She stated, even though it was left as a question. Lord Stark nodded his head, "indeed, let me reintroduce my good Lady wife, Catelyn Stark of House Tully." Catelyn curtseyed while Lady Mormont bowed, nodding towards the fiery red-head, "now to my son and his betrothed." Iona felt skittish when Lady Mormont's eyes rested with her. They kept hold of Iona's green ones before stopping just short of her.

"A fine beauty you've managed to ensnare Robb Stark, and a Rhys at that."

"All Rhys females are fine beauties," her father called from beside Catelyn, "and it'd do you some good to remember that." Iona's eyes widened as Lady Mormont's lips parted into a wide, toothy smile.

"And if it isn't the half-footed ogre Willard Rhys himself."

"At least I'm half-footed and not just an ogre, Maege." They clasped hands before Lady Mormont pulled back, "still no decorum I see."

"Says the woman that arrives dressed for battle."

Lady Mormont snorted, "you must've forgotten what it looks like to be in battle Lord Rhys, my battle attire is different from my riding." Her chest puffed out in pride, but didn't wait for her father's retort as her gaze settled back on Iona once again.

"Iona Rhys is it?" There was little space to speak, "Soon to be Iona Stark in a few days." Iona curtseyed before Lady Mormont, letting her head bow down before raising it to meet her eyes once more, "I am a Rhys still, I will not take the name of my betrothed until the day after our wedding." She watched with batted breath until Lady Mormont let out a loud, booming laugh, "I like you. Not one of those pock headed girls that fancy themselves too much of a Lady." Iona was confused for a moment, whether that was a compliment or an insult she wasn't quite sure. However, she was more than surprised when Lady Mormont grasped her shoulder and raised her up so Iona was her full height, "but you are to be a Stark soon enough, you don't have to bow your head so lowly to me or any of the Starks bannermen."

Her eyes narrowed in on Robb as Iona stood, shell-shocked, "and a fine man you have become Robb Stark; is that sword just for decoration, or do you know how to use it?" Iona shook from her state and glanced down, noting that on his hip hung the sword she had gifted him, "a pretty sword at that." Iona felt pride swell in her.

"I can assure you Lady Mormont that I can use my sword more than adequately."

Lady Mormont huffed as a smile spread across her lips, "Good enough, good enough."

The welcoming line stayed for a few hours more and Iona could barely feel her feet as they sunk into the mud. All of the Stark's bannermen had arrived: the Karstarks, the Umbers, the Flints, the Hornwoods, the Cerwyns, the Reeds, the Manderly, the Glover, the Tallharts, the Boltons, and obviously the Mormonts. When the Boltons arrived, the last of the bannermen to arrive, Robb had slid her arm over his and smiled down at her. She was tired from standing her, introducing herself, and receiving calculated stares at her in return. Now that Roose Bolton had gone inside, a servant showing him his quarters, Iona let out a sigh of starch relief.

"You did well Iona." Robb whispered in her ear, pressing a kiss upon the shell of it before standing up right like nothing had happened. Now, all that was left was the ceremony itself and Iona couldn't help but smile at the thought.

 **AN: This chapter was a literal asskicker to write. I wanted to write in some Bran/Rickon time with Iona since Arya and Sansa got their piece while moving along with the story rather than a filler.  
** **Then there was the reconciliation between Robb and Iona, I wanted to make it feel complete and make it feel like Robb learned something from it.. which he did. I tend to write Robb as unsure on how to handle women, because in all reality he probably has never _out rightly_ flirted with a girl or kissed her for that matter. So I wrote him as sweet as I could, to the point I was pulling out hair whispering to myself: " _what would someone like that say or do next_?" And I'm sooooo glad to be past that now.  
** **The next chapter will contain the ceremony, the wedding, the bedding, etc. There will be smut, but it won't be graphic; don't shame me on this, lol. After that we'll slowly descend into the first season of GoT.**

 **RHatch89: Thank you! I hope you've enjoyed this update as well!**

 **pawelp: I think your english is wonderful, and even if you make mistakes that's what it is: a mistake; you'll get no judgement or complaint from me! I'm glad you're liking the story so far, and to respond to your disappointment in the pace I'll try to explain as best as possible! Like I've written above, I feel like Robb is a very sweet and caring character, one that worries a little too much for his own health. I've written Iona to be naive and potentially too-trusting, as well as sweet. When these types of characters collide, I feel like the only possible thing to happen is a slow romance. If she had been more hot-headed or cold, the setting would go far differently. The romance I'm writing is a somewhat of a slow-burner, but after the wedding I can tell you it won't be slow. Their relationship will still have an essence of sweetness and naivety on both of their parts just because it is new to both of them.**  
 **I'm also glad that you're liking how I'm writing/dealing with Jon here! I'll try to make everyone as happy as possible, but I don't know how that's going to go with all the murder and whatnot ;) Thank you for the review!**

 **Thomatshu: (You probably won't read this, but in case you stumble upon my story at some point in the future,) thank you for your honest feedback, especially without being nasty about it! My OCs are not everyones cup of tea, but I'm happy to know that you've at least given Iona a chance! Thank you and I hope you find what you're looking for!**

 **musicluver246: Aw, thank you so much! I hope you've enjoyed this new chapter!**

 **Carly Carnations: (Love your username btw,) I think you and I are on the same wave length, because that's the song that was going through my head not only in the last part, but this one as well! I'm really glad you're liking Iona's relationship with everyone (romantic and non-romantic!) I've tried to give her different sources/people so everyone can see exactly what kind of person she is. You know, someone that worries too much and has terrible anxiety, lol. WELL! Iona has had her first outing with Bran and Rickon! What do you think? I hope it's lived up to expectations and thanks for the review! x**

 **Thank you all for reviewing, alerting, and favoriting! I hope this chapter has lived up to expectations because 11,000 words is a lot and I think my brain is fried from editing it all! Please review and stay safe! Until next time, bye bye!**

 **EDIT: If you find any errors, please PM because I edit and write it. I tend to skim over mistakes after reading it several times! xx**


	9. Nine: Comfort

**Of Hemlock and Wolves  
** _SyntheticProduct_

* * *

Longer Summary: People often forget that Hemlock is not just pretty and dainty, a small flower that is pleasing to the eye; it is poisonous, but when you plant them in abundance, it's deadly. Hemlock Grove got it's name for the deadly accuracy of their bowmen, for their trained warriors, but also known because they were almost neutral in every war. Natives of Hemlock Grove would say that it was as simple as they wanted peace, but others called them out on selfishness; berated them for it. Besides their ferocious talents, there was also a softer side to the town; they were simple lumberers and miners, crafting things from what they gathered and sold them as specialties. The Rhys family controlled Hemlock Grove, they have for more than a millennia since it was built with their own hands. From generation to generation, the land and it's keep (Bolete Keep) was passed down and handled accordingly, but now that Willard Rhys has his hands on it he plans to gain more and more for his family, even going as far as going into battle against House Targaryen. Now was the time of peace, but there is much more power to be gained. Especially through marriages of convenience.  
Robb/Iona; Theon/Sansa; Jon/Gretchen (another OC); Bethally/?

* * *

Chapter Nine: **Comfort**

* * *

 _Jon_

Willard Rhys stalked through the forested hills, a bow over his right shoulder with a quiver full of finely feathered arrows. Jon traipsed behind him with a bow slung over his shoulder, a quiver, and the dagger that was gifted to him by Iona strapped to his waist. Jon was unsure whether or not the _Half-footed Ogre_ , as Lady Mormont called him, should be hunting at all. However, Jon was pleasantly surprised to find the Lord Rhys had a wooden foot that he used for such occasions. Although, Jon was carrying his walking stick on his hip _just in case_ because Iona insisted upon it.

 _"The wooden foot he uses causes blisters and swelling, so if it gets too uncomfortable for him please insist on him using his walking stick," her lips were tugged into a frown, "I would insist that he doesn't go at all, but this is a tradition for the men to go on a hunting trip to find the wedding feast."_

 _"He won't settle for just one deer, he'll try to track a boar if he can."_

Jon was asked to substitute as Lord Rhys's squire since the young boy was running errands for Lady Rhys and he couldn't deny a request from a Lord. Especially because of who he was.  
Lord Rhys stepped quietly through the trees, grimacing as he squatted down, "get down boy." Jon followed suit and situated himself just behind the Lord. There was a deer sitting beyond the glade, chewing on some grass lazily. Carefully and quietly, Lord Rhys drew his bow and grabbed an arrow. Jon followed him, drawing his bow before notching an arrow.

"Draw," Lord Rhys commanded and Jon did; aiming down the straight arrow, lining it up with the deer's side, "fire!" The deer's ears flinched and looked right at them as the arrows knocked loose. Lord Rhys's arrow struck the deer in the neck as Jon's barely missed the mark at where he was aiming. With little time, Jon notched another arrow and sent it flying for the deer's hind leg. It went down with a morose cry before trying to run away, but flailing as it fell. Lord Rhys let out a victorious cry before standing up and stocking towards their kill.

Jon knelt down beside the fallen beast and without further warning, drew his dagger across its throat. Blood seeped into the ground, into the fallen leaves before there was a final flinch; the light drew from the animals eyes and Jon knew it was done.  
Jon wrapped a burlap sack around the still bleeding wound before heaving it up onto his shoulders. Lord Rhys snorted, "strong boy, aren't you?" Jon didn't reply, but instead walked forward back to their group. Lord Stark and Robb had also accompanied them, but Lord Rhys decided it was best if they split up and met back at the road after a kill.

"So, have you thought about my offer? You only have the night left to think over it." Lord Rhys was trampling the grass behind him, snapping twigs and scuffing the ground loudly as his foot seemed to drag behind him. Jon shifted the weight of the dead deer as it begun to slip before nodding his head, "aye, I have."

"And what say you?"

Jon licked his lips before answering.

* * *

 _Iona_

Iona paced the dining hall floors as Catelyn spoke, "we're making a cake that'll have fresh fruits atop it, does that sound appetizing to you?" All morn and noon Iona had been with Lady Catelyn, not that she was complaining. Catelyn was one of the few people that kept Iona feeling comfortable inside Winterfell and she was decidedly happy when she had pulled Iona away from the constant talk of Lord Torghen Flint. He was a stout man, with an intense gaze, but was kind in his own regard. He talked and talked and talked, however. He told Iona that she should be pleased that an old man such as himself had made the journey to see the joining of House Stark and House Rhys. He told her grand stories of the battles he was in, and it was no surprise when he started speaking of his younger years; " _I was quite dashing back then, the ladies didn't know what do to with themselves."_

"That sounds wonderful Catelyn."

In truth, it did sound rather appetizing even Iona's stomach gave a small gurgle of appreciation, "but will the Lords and Ladies like it as well?" Iona questioned as she stopped her pacing, to speak to Catelyn. She was a bit worried that her tastes would be rather feminine for them, especially Lady Mormont and all she wanted to do, was impress. Catelyn smiled softly, "it's your joining ceremony, Iona; you don't have to please anybody more than yourself." Those words calmed Iona some. Even though Iona knew it was a bit of a stretch, most people that came to a wedding ceremony came for the joining - not the two who were to be wed, but the houses.

The dining hall was impeccably decorated. From the drapery to the bouquets of flowers, everything was just how Catelyn explained it to be. The tiny bouquets of dainty purple mountain flowers with sparse interwoven baby's breath between them made Iona smile, especially since the two flowers were common in Hemlock Grove; it made her nostalgic and homesick at the same time. There were tables among tables set out before her, with chairs that had the Stark's banners woven onto the wooden posts. Iona's breath caught in her throat; she would no longer be a Rhys, but a Stark by name.

"Something the matter?" Catelyn's voice was laden with worry, but Iona just smiled tightly, "absolutely nothing, Catelyn." Catelyn looked disbelieving at first, but sighed and walked towards Iona to place a hand on her tense shoulders. Iona stood straight as a board, rigid as Catelyn pulled her into a tight hug. It was nice, comforting almost and it made Iona's shoulders release the tension she was holding, even though her mind was wondering with worries about this and that, "you're nervous aren't you?" Iona supposed that was part of it, "you needn't be," Catelyn pulled back from Iona, her hands holding Iona's shoulders as she looked straight into her eyes, "you're welcome here, you will be my daughter just as you'll be Ned's; you don't need to be frightened." Iona had to smile at Catelyn's words, they comforted her to no end.

"Thank you Catelyn." Catelyn smiled at Iona's words as well before pulling back and picking up the itinerary that she had drawn up.

Robb returned several hours later, small cuts on his face and mud patted on the bottom of his boots and cloak, but Iona couldn't help but smile when Robb walked up to her with a wide smile on his face. There was something so nonchalant and natural about the way he embraced her, the way he pecked her cheek chastely before pulling back, "your father and mine joined forces to track down a boar," Iona laughed quietly, "me and Jon brought back some measly deer, as your father called them."

"Wait until your wedding, you love birds," Jon joked quietly as he strode up to them, peeling back his riding gloves revealing his slender fingers, "even though it's refreshing to see that you two have made up." Iona's face heated up as she smiled timidly up at Jon as Robb nudged him in the ribs with his elbow.

"You must've had a good hunt if you're joking around Jon," Robb teased, "usually you just traipse back with a frown and brood." Jon scowled, "I do not brood." Robb laughed as Iona held back a chuckle, because Jon certainly _did_ brood especially well. Jon's eyebrows pushed together in a deeper scowl before elbowing Robb in the ribs, causing him the choke as he bit back his laughter.

"Something good must've happened though," Iona commented as she watched the two brothers, "you seem like a weight has lifted from your shoulders." Jon's scowl turned into a very small smile, "perhaps." His eyes darted back to her father, who was getting off his horse with the help from his squire, but her father seemed to be having none of it. Iona gave an unsure smile, partially confused and curious to why Jon was looking at her father. She shook it off, or tried to, before Robb offered his arm to her; she gladly took it with her own.

"How was the weather?" She questioned as they walked away from Jon, who seemed to be off in his own little world and didn't even notice them leaving.

"Chilly, as we expected it to be especially since we left so early in the morn and headed north," he smiled while Iona returned it, "my Father complained little though, especially after he shot the first stag." Iona gleefully bumped her hip slightly into his, giving him a teasing smirk, "and you didn't complain?"

"Perhaps, a tad."

They both chuckled to themselves as they made their way to their 'secret' place: the library. Whilst on the way there, Iona noticed that Roose Bolton was coming down the corridor. She dropped Robb's arm and curtsied slightly as he neared, "good noon, Lord Bolton."

He sniffled and returned her curtsy with a bow of his own, as Robb followed suit, "a good noon it is Lady Rhys, how goes the wedding preparations?" Iona faced him fully and smiled as kindly as she could; something about the man seemed...off. She couldn't exactly place it, but it most definitely had something to do with the way he leered at her; it was an unkindly gaze with something underneath it. Robb didn't seem to notice it as he smiled to the Lord.

"Lady Catelyn has been very accommodating with my suggestions, but she has her hands in it mostly."

"Ah, usually the husband's good-mother plans most of the wedding; I remember it fondly..." Lord Bolton trailed off slightly, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at her, "I never got the chance to ask Lady Rhys, but how fairs your condition?"

Iona was confused at his questioning, "my condition?"

"You were attacked some nights ago, I hear that your attacker didn't get off lightly. If I were Lord Stark I would've flayed him, _alive_." A shock coursed through her and she tried to brush it off, Robb's hand slithering into hers and gave her a tight squeeze; a reminder that he was there.

She cleared her throat before answering, "I'm well, left me with quite a fright, but Jon fended off my attacker with ease. I suppose it shows you the training that all have here in Winterfell." If he wanted to be sly, she could be too. He gave her a tight smile, "ah yes, Lord Stark's bastard, I hear he is fairing from it quite nicely."

"Yes, my Father has offered him a place as my personal guard. A high honor."

Roose Bolton said no more and offered the pair another bow before stalking off. Iona released a loud sigh, breathing in the fresh air through her nose as Robb laced his fingers with hers, "that was odd."

"Odd indeed."

As they walked into the library, Iona couldn't shake the feeling that Lord Bolton's words held more than just false friendliness.

* * *

After breaking sup with everyone, Iona found herself in her room with a whimpering Travan close to her breast. Bethally had come by with no words and simply gave Iona the whining boy before leaving. It was something she was used to, something that made her feel at peace, and she didn't mind the fact that she got to hold the tiny boy close to her. The Septa had been by not long after that, offering to take the boy off of Iona's hands, but she declined which rewarded Iona with a curious gaze from her.

However, now she was pacing the room with Travan, humming softly as she brushing his hair away from his face with the pads of her fingers.

"Nona, Nona stay?" His tiny voice was dowsed in drowsiness and want, which made Iona chuckled.

"I'm here my little Lord," she lowered her head to his, placing a kiss on his forehead as she cradled him, "Nona will stay." He hummed, pleased with the answer before peering into her eyes with a soft giggle leaving his mouth.

"Nona silly."

"You're the silly one my little Lord." She sat at the bay window, holding him close as the stars twinkled in the bleak sky. She hummed a tune softly, encouraging him to sleep. Eleonora stepped through the door with the last of the steaming tubs of water, slowly letting it slosh into the copper tub. The chill from the north carried down as the sun set and Iona felt that a hot bath was in order.

"It's ready my Lady, whenever you are." Eleonora closed the door behind her, leaving Iona with a tender smile.

Looking down at the boy, Iona noted that he was still awake, "does my little Lord want to take a bath with me?" She cooed softly, tickling his double chin with her fingers. He giggled and pushed them away, "bath please!" Iona set him down on the bed before removing his clothes and hers soon followed before she picked him up again, stepping into the tub as he played with her hair. The water was hot, so she waited a bit before settling down into the metal tub before bringing Travan out before her. He blew out air and giggled, "hot wawa."

He had started speaking more since she left, and a part of her was saddened she wasn't there to see it, but another part of her was glad that she was in Winterfell...with Robb. She could feel the heat burn her cheeks as she let him splash merrily. She reached for her hair oils, sitting neatly on a stool nearby before squeezing some out and washing Travan's hair. He cooed as her fingers gently scrubbed his scalp and leaned back into her belly, "Nona nice."

Iona smiled down at him before dipping her hands into the water, cupping them and bringing the water over his head. She washed out the oils from his hair and soothed back the dripping water from his face.

"Bubdles?" Travan asked tentatively, "Nona bubdles?"

"Bubbles?" Iona clarified as Travan nodded his head excitedly, "okay, I'll get the bubbles." She chuckled as she reached for her soap, dipping it into the water and furiously rubbing it against her hand. Soon, bubbles starting to rise and Travan let out an ecstatic shriek, "bubdles Nona! Bubdles!"

While he played with the bubbles, Iona was able to wash and rinse her own hair before scrubbing her body down with the soap. She repeated the process with Travan, as he screamed and laughed trying to get away from her.

"Little Lords can't smell like cow plop, now hold still!" She wasn't angry, or irritated; she was happy, content. He soon settled down and started to build a 'bubdle caswule' with consisted of a large tower of bubbles. They soaked in the hot water until Iona noticed his drooping eyes. She scooped him up from the tub before rising out and retrieving the towel that Eleonora had set out, draping it across his body with ease. She laid him on the bed before donning her dressing gown. He yawned as she dried him off and slipped his sleeping gown back on. His small hands turned into fists as he rubbed his eyes. She tucked him into her bed, towards the middle before taking the same towel and drying her hair.

She dressed in the night gown and knocked on Eleonora's servant door. It was a small door that was connected to hers, and Iona was pleased when Eleonora answered it, "I'm done with the tub, Eleonora." Eleonora bowed her head slightly before closing the servant's door. Iona tended to the fire, stoking it and adding more wood as the servants came in to carry out the water. It was a tedious task and Iona felt incredibly bad about having a bath so late at night. Half of the servants looked dead-tired and the other half looked like they were sleep walking. Ser Tern helped carry out the tub with the help of a couple servants and then the door was shut.

Iona crawled into bed with Travan, shushing him quietly before she blew out the candle.

She laid still, cuddling into Travan, as she thought about the wedding ceremony. She thought about how it was only two days away now and she let the giddiness flow through her. She closed her eyes and even in her dreams she thought about how the ceremony was going to be almost something from a fairy tale.

 **A/N: Apologies from the late update; this chapter was more of a filler before the ceremony so, that means that... I might've lied on the last AN, the next one is going to be ceremony preparations (Theon will be involved in something dubious, I'm sure) and the same chapter will have the ceremony! After that we'll be getting into the first season of GOT.  
Sorry if the last AN was misleading at all! I'm currently not in the mood to write an entire chapter filled with happiness and some smut, but I'll be working all day tomorrow on it so hopefully it's up within the next few days! (Keep your eyes out for it!)**

 **RHatch89: Thank you! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well :)**

 **fan: Are you speaking from a romantic stand-point? I can't guarantee an explicit Jon/OC/Robb story because I have something lined up for Jon, but you never know. There might be tidbits of a J/I/R story, but if you guys are interested in reading a Jon/OC/Robb story let me know! I suppose my other story The Crow & The Little Bird has tidbits of that as well, but it's on a hiatus until I revamp it :-)**

 **PS: If you notice any spelling/grammar errors let me know!**


End file.
